Love
by Laura Harkness
Summary: Tell me who you love, and I will tell you who you are...
1. Chapter 1

**LOVE**

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **Inspired by, dedicated to and in the greatest respect of Doctor Who, Torchwood and especially David Tennant and John Barrowman, who inspire me to do something I have come to love – tell stories.

"_Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend."  
_Martin Luther King

**Author's Note:**

Standalone but follows my story "Stories."

**PROLOGUE**

Jack Harkness took a long hit off of his piña colada and with a sigh of contentment settled back comfortably into his beach chair.

"Happy, Jack?" the Time Lord asked him, not bothering to actually turn his head and look in the direction of his question's intended destination.

The Captain reflected for a few luxurious moments and then nodded in slow motion. "Yeah… yeah I am, Doctor. What did I tell you? It's beautiful here. And peaceful. It does my heart good to see it like this. How about you, you like it?"

Now the Time Lord did marginally shift position in order to scrutinize his friend. "Yes, this is very nice. It's indeed lovely. It is all that you claimed. I'm not surprised your forbearers chose to immigrate to this world. It would be perfect except for…" The Doctor's penetrating gaze traveled down to Jack's legs. Jack's _bare_ legs.

"Doctor! You promised!" the Captain narrowed his eyes and glared back at his companion.

"Yes, I did. I know I did."

"Well then, what's the problem?"

The Doctor shivered in an exaggerated fashion, "It's just that I didn't expect them to be so… so gauche."

Jack rolled his eyes. "They are perfectly respectable board shorts," he retorted. "I told you: I got them in Hawaii, on Maui. They're bright and colorful in a tropical kind of way. They've got hibiscus flowers on them. In case you don't know, the hibiscus is the Hawaiian state flower. These shorts have UPF 50 sunblocking protection built into them. They're comfortable. They look great on me. And I look _good _in them. They are _quality_ shorts, Doctor." The Captain inhaled loudly through his nose. "I just don't parse your negativity. Is it that you want a pair, too? Because if you do I have a couple of spare pairs in my closet…"

"I kind of doubt that they'll fit me," the Time Lord sniffed.

"What's this? Are you insinuating something? Are you telling me I'm fat?"

"No… well… yes… maybe. You've put on a little weight. But there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all."

"Doctor!"

"Don't misinterpret me! I think you are nothing but fine! I'm glad you're eating. After all you've been through, Jack, it pleases me to see you're regaining some of that weight you lost right after Wil left y-… Uh, I mean right after Wil disappeared."

"And _I think_ you'd better shut up before you really stick your foot into the middle of it, Doctor." Once upon a time Wil Beinert's abrupt departure from Cardiff and Jack's life might've been an unpleasant and difficult if not extremely touchy topic of discussion; but now Jack's blue eyes were dancing and he was barely able to contain his laughter.

The Doctor smiled brilliantly and pulled his left earlobe. "Seriously, Captain, I'm glad you seem to be doing all right. I worry about you…"

"_Doctor…_"

"I can't help it, I do. It's all part of that social contract of ours you keep talking about. I worry, you worry, we all worry… Your emotional resilience is as impressive as your physical, and I have to admit you've bounced back nicely from Wil's rejection of your affections." Jack groaned yet The Doctor continued on blissfully unabated. "I'm proud of you, Jack. But I've been troubled over what went on with your brother."

The Captain frowned deeply and repositioned himself to bring his face closer to the Time Lord's. "I told you, I asked you, I _begged_ you, can we please not talk about that? Pretty please? With sugar on it? We're on vacation, Doctor."

The Lord of Time turned his face back toward their splendid view of the horizon and remained silent.

"Sorry, Doctor."

Silence.

"Doctor?"

"Me too."

"Right." Jack picked up a frosty pitcher from the small table that separated the two beach chairs and poured himself some more of the thick, sweet mixture he'd been drinking. Then he refilled The Doctor's empty glass before placing the pitcher back down next to it. "A toast!" the Captain announced, straightening his back, raising his chin and lifting his glass high into the air.

The Doctor picked up his glass. "Magnificent! A toast! To what?"

"To the Boeshane Peninsula! Long may it thrive!"

"Hear! Hear!" The Doctor chimed before the two men quaffed their drinks in hearty enjoyment. The Captain emptied his glass and set it down firmly on the table with a resounding thud that was perhaps louder than what was required.

"That…" Jack pointed off far into the distance, his voice thick with reminiscence and piña colada amalgamation, "that was where the main part of the colony used to be. It's where my mother, father, brother and I lived when I was growing up. The settlement really was – or… sorry… will be, I guess is more accurate – on a low peninsula that juts out far into the sea. Our buildings were strong and tall, rising high above the level of the land."

The Doctor nodded. The Captain continued.

"The colonists were mostly artisans and fisherfolk; we lived off the bounties of the ocean, and the waters were bountiful indeed. We led a simple, easy, quiet life. Some of best times I can remember were when my father used to take Gray and me camping."

"Camping?"

"Yeah, it was the real deal. Tents, sleeping bags, cooking dinner over an open fire. We'd play baseball on the beach, sing old songs around the campfire, and stay up late talking and telling ghost stories. It was great."

"Camping! Don't get any ideas, Captain."

The air shimmered with Jack's laughter. "Yeah, I understand. It's an acquired taste, even among humans. No other race in the universe goes camping!"

There was a long, comfortable stillness between the two men.

"I'd go camping with you if you really wanted to go camping, Jack."

"Yeah… I know. I do know," was the half-whispered response. But then it was followed by an extremely wicked grin, "But would you share a sleeping bag with me?"

"I might not go that far…" The Doctor was nervously fiddling with his once again empty glass.

Jack looked out past the beach to the sea and beyond, and nodded slowly.

"What was he like?" The Doctor asked as he put down his glass.

"Who?"

"Your brother?"

Jack seemed to rumble a bit before answering. "He was a normal little kid. Why do you ask?"

"Oh I don't know, I was just wondering."

"Why do I not believe you, Doctor?"

The Time Lord shrugged.

Jack scowled, "He wasn't some kind of a monster, if that's what you're curious about. He didn't pull the wings off flies or stuff tiny kittens into burlap sacks and set them on fire."

"You don't have to get all defensive, Jack…"

"I'm not getting all defensive, Doctor!"

The Doctor ignored his friend's increasingly agitated tone of voice and kept his own inflection quiet, serene. "Something just doesn't add up about the invasion of your home world and you're the one who always says he doesn't believe in coincidences. Well… answer me this: why Gray? Why Boeshane?" He looked at the Captain inquisitively.

Jack's face went dark, "You've forgotten one, Doctor."

"One what?"

"You forgot one other question… you didn't ask _why me_?"

"Exactly. Why you?"

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. "I have no idea, Doctor. Do you?"

Again there was a long period of silence, but this time it was less comfortable, more charged. Eventually Jack opened his eyes and turned his head. He was surprised, if not shocked, to observe the Time Lord openly staring at him, but The Doctor's face was lax, his eyes seemingly unseeing…

"Doctor?"

"DOCTOR?"

"What is it, Jack?" The Doctor blinked.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. It's just that you're… you're important, Jack," the Time Lord said wonderingly, almost reverently.

The Captain blushed a little and then smiled despite the conversation's grim nature, "Well gee, thanks."

"No, I mean it," the Time Lord's tone was suddenly very serious. "You. Are. Important."

"Huh?"

The Doctor took a deep breath and dry-swallowed. "There are some things, Jack, which even you aren't supposed to know."

"Well then… why are you talking about them?"

Now it was The Doctor's turn to scowl. He waved his hands through the air, palms open and facing outward as if in mock surrender.

All Jack could do was chuckle. What else could he do? "Like I always say, you're an enigma, Doctor."

"ME? You think I'm an enigma? What I _can_ tell you is that at this moment I sit at the feet of an enigma giant – I am in the presence of the master."

"Hey! No name-calling!" Jack smiled as he reached for the nearly empty drink pitcher and split the remainder of the piña colada mélange between the two empty glasses.

Then the Captain watched as the Time Lord picked up his glass. The Doctor studied the large, heavy goblet intently as he swirled around its remaining contents, but he did not speak.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I have an important question to ask you and I want an honest answer."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Do you really think I'm fat?"

**ONE**

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wil Beinert asked.

She and John Hart were walking hand-in-hand through an immense field of tall, green grass. Above them two large, gibbous moons shone dimly in the bright azure sky. A strong breeze moved across the surface of the meadow creating immense waves of graceful movement and playing havoc with Wil's long, loose hair. With her free hand she kept shoving errant red strands out of her eyes.

Their strides were perfectly synchronized, although he was shorter than she, her legs significantly lengthier than his. They'd long since come to an unspoken arrangement concerning pace. And that agreed-upon pace did not alter as he responded. "No, not really. I believe I've said everything I want to say about the matter."

Wil masked a sigh. She'd seen the depth of his grieving. Had been sad and frustrated she could not share it with him. That he apparently could or would not allow her to share it. Was it the first glimpse of something ominous lurking darkly beneath his façade, or was it just the simple and relatively normal inability of a human male to display a particular type of intensely unpleasant emotion? She wasn't sure and, for once, had no idea how to pursue the problem, much less solve it.

So she had brought him here, to the Brave Woman galaxy. A galaxy she'd fashioned back when she was at once so much more and yet so much less than she was now. Although it felt like eons since she'd last been there, it remained a refuge and a sanctuary. She had hoped by openly revealing some of her own secrets that perhaps he would willingly disclose a few of his own – that he would unmask the pain that now dwelled within his beloved eyes and which imprisoned his beloved heart.

Like a classical symphony, she had once composed tens of thousands of nameless worlds in this galaxy, waving a fecund wand and birthing infinite diversity in infinite combinations; worlds filled with glorious beauty, both soft and gentle, as well as with frightful power and stupendous elegance. John had been astonished and amazed; yes, even he – John Hart – who'd seen so much, witnessed such wonders, experienced such marvels in his life. Even John Hart had been impressed.

And in the end they had come to that planet, that place, deep in the galactic habitable zone of the Brave Woman galaxy where she'd been at long last discovered – found again – by her friends The Doctor, Jack Harkness, and the sweet, brave, never-forgotten Rose Tyler. A planet of endless meadows, towering trees, and vast expanses of deep, calm water. Fragrant and warm, a world buzzing with colorful insects and singing joyously with bird-life… But nothing even remotely sentient: she'd purposefully left out that part of the limitless composition of life. Even with god-like powers, she would not then, not now, not ever, play God.

She recounted for John the tale of how The Doctor, that magical, marvelous Lord of Time, had finally come for her, after – from her perspective (and not his!) – she'd been lost and alone in the cosmic wilderness for so very, very long. He and his companions arrived and recovered her, unburied her, rescued her… and set her on a life-path that was still careening headlong into an uncertain, unknowable future. And although John had indeed responded strongly to her story, his reaction was colder, more removed than she'd expected. Her strange, intense, unpredictable and sometimes spooky lover had not reacted _viscerally_. She had imagined there'd be more, somehow, coming from him.

Wil couldn't help but feel a small piece of John had withdrawn… walled itself off from her.

She tried to keep any hint of the exasperation she felt out of her voice. "Yes, you've said what you wanted to say. But what about what you don't want to say?"

With that John stopped and turned to face her, taking her free hand in his and tenderly, warmly holding both of them as he met her eyes. "I don't know what you're asking me, M'Lady."

"I saw, we all saw your face when you spoke of him, of his death," she felt her eyes stinging with hot tears. "We saw how deeply he – his loss – affected you. I want… I wish to understand better what happened after I left."

John blinked, released her hands and dropped his arms to his sides. "I didn't sleep with Ecba, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh God, no," her face went ashen. "That's not what I mean, John! It never crossed my mind… but even if…" She shook her head. "No, John. Please. Listen. I was absent. I missed something that happened to you, something important. I didn't mean to be gone for so long… I never intended to be away from you like that. I – I love you; I don't want to be excluded from parts of your life. Please don't shut me out."

He shrugged, "I cannot give you what I do not have."

The tears that had been welling up in her eyes now freed themselves from their confinement and trickled down her face. "I'm sorry; I have no right to intrude."

"You're not intruding! Look, I loved him. We weren't lovers but I came to love him. I watched him fight a battle for his soul – I saw him win that battle but at such a dreadful cost. He was strong and brave and loyal and honest, and he died – he took his own life – so that I might have a chance to live. He killed himself, Wil, while his body was pressed up against mine. I could feel the flowing warmth of his spirit as it left him. But that's all I've got. If you want more, I don't have it to give you." He shook his head vehemently and looked down at his feet. "Jack would understand," he muttered.

"What was that?"

He looked up again and met her piercing gaze, unafraid. "I said Jack would understand."

To his surprise she nodded in agreement, "I believe he would."

"You know," he said after a small amount of time had passed, his voice almost a prayer, a whisper. "Some day one of us will go back to him. Perhaps sooner than you think."

Their earlier concurrence evaporated in a hot flash. "Well it won't be me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I am so over him."

John smiled ruefully. "Take it from an expert. You can never be totally over Captain Jack Harkness."

She met his smile and raised it, her eyes penetrating, her tone sardonic, "These things you know?"

"If I'm an expert at anything, I'm an expert at being in love with Jack Harkness. It's a persistent condition. A permanent affliction. One I never wish to be cured of." He reached for her, "But at the moment all I want is you, M'Lady."

She leaned into him, allowed him to envelop her in his arms, in his warmth, in his scent, "And I you," she murmured. He kissed her deeply, insistently. But she felt a shiver far down in the depths of her spine, and it was not altogether pleasant.

_-00-_

"_You call it madness, but I call it love."  
_Don Byas


	2. Chapter 2

**LOVE**

**TWO**

The phone was ringing and it wouldn't stop.

Ianto Jones groaned, rolled over and opened his eyes. Or maybe he opened his eyes and then rolled over. Whatever. He quickly glanced at the bedside clock before fumbling for his mobile. It was 3:15… 3:15 in the flipping a.m. The hour of the wolf and never, _ever_ a good time to get a phone call.

From the caller I.D. he knew who it was. "Jones here," he said; his voice still husky with dreams and sleep.

"Ianto? This is Rhys." Rhys' voice didn't sound good and it hit him like an ice cold shower. Hour of the wolf indeed…

"Yes, Rhys. What can I do for you?"

"Gwen never came home last night."

"Have you called…?"

"She phoned me just before she was leaving the office, asking me if I wanted her to pick up anything on the way home. I told her that I didn't. That was over four hours ago."

Ianto tried again. "Have you called the Hub?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I'm _at_ the Hub, Ianto. She's not here."

Ianto abruptly sat up, the bed linens falling off his torso and pooling around his waist. He rubbed the slumber out of his eyes as Rhys continued talking.

"It doesn't appear that things were shut down normally for the night here as they ought to have been. The place is as wide open as a gift shop on Christmas Eve. The lights are all on, the computer systems too. And listen…"

Ianto strained to hear what Rhys wanted him to hear. There was muffled music in the background; he couldn't quite make out what he was listening to. For a few seconds he felt like he was on some sort of quiz show: _Name That Tune!_ He was almost happy. Almost. But then Rhys started talking again.

"That's the iPod at Tosh's old desk. You know, where Mickey sits when he and Martha are in town. It's been left on and it's still playing, Ianto. You can't tell me that isn't just plain weird."

The young Welshman threw off the covers, pivoted and placed his bare feet firmly on the carpeting. With his free hand he waved high above his head, the motion automatically turning on the bedroom lights. "Not good," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." He was looking around for his clothes. "Rhys… I want you to walk into Jack's… I mean Gwen's office." He spied the trousers he'd been wearing the day before, folded neatly over the back of a chair, and grabbed them.

"Yeah, boss. Hold on…" There was a brief interlude followed by: "Okay, I'm here."

"Open up the outer door to the secure storage area."

"But I don't know the combination. I don't have authorization…"

"Don't worry about it. I'm giving you the authorization. Now just go ahead and do as I tell you. It's all right."

"Roger that, whatever you say."

Ianto gave Rhys the combination to the safe, made him write it down and then repeat it back to him before proceeding. Again there was a brief interruption in the conversation. Ianto held the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he buttoned up his shirt.

"Right," Rhys said as he came back on the line. "The outer doors are open and I'm looking directly at the interior of the secure storage locker."

"How does it appear?" the Welshman was fussing with his tie.

"Well I've only seen the inside of the safe once or twice before. As far as I can tell, and you know I'm not an expert or anything, it all looks pretty normal. We've got, uh, ten or twelve separate…"

Ianto Jones was just about ready to breathe a sigh of relief when Rhys cut into his own monologue, "No… check that… wait…"

"What is it?" Ianto's heart skipped a beat.

"Erm, there's something strange going on here. The lower left-hand drawer… it looks…"

"Don't touch it!" Ianto screamed into the phone.

"What? No! I won't! I won't be touching anything now will I? But, there's something funny… it's not… it's not closed properly."

Ianto Jones pulled the phone away from his ear and glared at it like it was the worst thing he'd ever seen in the entire universe. "Jesus fucking Christ," he hissed.

As he stared at his mobile he could hear Rhys' tiny, detached voice, although he couldn't quite make out the endless stream of words. Somehow that lack of clarity seemed appropriate. Ianto felt like he was at one end of a long, dark tunnel, peering far off into the distance at something that was just barely beyond his field of vision but which was undoubtedly, truly, horrifically, terrible. And it was heading straight toward him. The bottom line was that it didn't really matter what Rhys was saying. There was very little that mattered now except… well, except what _really_ mattered.

"Stay where you are, touch nothing. I'll be right there," he said to the phone before ending the call, his voice affecting a strength and confidence he did not feel.

Ianto Jones fought off an uncharacteristic yet powerful urge to hurl his mobile against the wall. _Damn you Jack Harkness! Why didn't you destroy him when you had the chance?_

_-00-_

"_Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage._"  
Lao Tzu


	3. Chapter 3

**LOVE**

**THREE**

The system's sun was now set on the Boeshane Peninsula and following breathtaking flashes of orange and red and finally cerulean and purple the stars had come out in full-force. The cacophonous noises of the day – buzzing insects and riotous birds, had melted into the music of the night – droning insects and crooning amphibians. Other, more constant sounds continued on undeterred – the off-shore breeze, the pounding surf, and the hushed words of two men talking.

With the help of The Doctor's sonic Jack built a roaring fire on the beach. The Time Lord and the Captain had moved their chairs near to it, then nearer still, and then finally giving up on the chairs altogether they sat down upon a large, gnarled piece of scavenged driftwood which Jack had pulled up close – but upwind – to the flames. As they conversed, sparks flying up toward the heavens, their shadows danced behind them.

"So, Doctor?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Do you… um… know of any good doctors?"

"Oh Jack, let it go. I was only joking about your weight."

"No, it's not that."

"Hmm? Well then, what is it?"

"Umm…"

"Jack, what's going on?" The Doctor sounded just a tiny bit alarmed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Doctor… it's just that I…" the Captain's voice trailed off. The campfire crackled and hissed.

"Yes, Jack? It's just that you… what?"

"It's just that this thing that has happened to me – what Rose did to me, _for_ me – I want to, I need to understand it better. I have so many questions. I don't believe in miracles, Doctor. I don't believe in inexplicable marvels. Something physically changed inside me. Rose did something, but what was it? Is it quantifiable? Qualifiable? Can I lose it? Can I share it? Pass it on to my children? I haven't on my own been able to find answers to any of my questions and the sheer number of those questions keeps increasing the longer I'm alive. I'm starting to feel more and more weighted down by them…

"I'd like to find someone to talk to, and you've informed me in no uncertain terms that you are_ not_ that person – that you can't or you won't answer any of my questions about what happened to me on Satellite Five."

"No Jack, I'm sorry but you're right – I am not that person. And if I may I'll take this opportunity to reiterate something I said to you earlier…"

"Yes! I understand! There are some things I'm not supposed to know. But this is my body we're talking about. It's my life. I have a right…"

The Doctor stretched, rotating his shoulder blades. The driftwood was not a real chair, just a vaguely convenient, unpleasantly hard surface above the sand on which to perch. And it was definitely not comfortable seating. "I'm not denying, Captain, that you have that right. Of course you do. What I'm attempting to remind you of is a warning which you often yourself express to others, and that is: be careful what you wish for."

Jack paused for thought and then looked wordlessly at The Doctor and shrugged.

"Didn't do it for you?" the Time Lord asked.

Jack shook his head.

"Okay. Well…" The Doctor smiled lopsidedly and gave it his best New Jersey accent, "I know a guy who knows a guy. I might be able to arrange something for you."

Still Jack didn't speak, but he did raise an eyebrow.

"On a planet called Miri," The Doctor continued. "There's a certain scientist – a physician and savant – I know of. Discreet. Brilliant. Cutting-edge. Driven. Back in the day he helped a few Time Lords that were having, uh… troubles."

"Troubles?"

"Allow me to retain some semblance of propriety here, Jack. _De mortuis nil nisi bonum_… Respect for the dearly departed and all that. But yes, troubles. Believe it or not, Time Lords can and do have them."

"Oh I'm not questioning that." Jack narrowed his eyes, studying his friend, but decided to leave the fascinating topic for another day. "Do you think he'd be willing to see me?"

"Oh, I have no doubt he would be willing to see you. You'll intrigue him, Jack. But I have to warn you, he's a bit… erm… unusual."

"How do you mean?"

The Doctor sniffed, "He's odd. Strange. Eccentric. Like a lot of smart people we know, present company excluded of course, he lacks certain social skills. He can be harsh, rude, cold and unsympathetic. But he makes up for any shortage of common niceties with skill and intelligence."

Jack smiled, "Odd, strange and eccentric people don't bother me…" The Captain waited, unsure if The Doctor had gotten the joke. Evidently The Doctor hadn't and continued to prattle on obliviously.

"There's something else about this physician, Captain. As a young man, during his post-graduate studies, he was in a freak accident at a research facility. His body sustained a considerable amount of damage and large pieces of it, of him, had to be replaced by constructed components. In fact such biomechanical augmentation became one of his many, many specialties." The Doctor swallowed hard. "The bottom line is that he's more cyborg than organic. If you're squeamish about such things, he may put you off. Some prospective patients who come to him for help never get past the first consultation. _Some_ people run screaming from his office before they're even properly introduced."

"I pride myself on my tolerance Doctor. I don't think I'll have any problems with him. He actually sounds quite interesting. What's this fellow's name, anyway?"

"Well, remember I told you he is a bit eccentric?"

"Yes. Yes, you did."

"Since the accident he's dropped the name he was born with, which is Iserliss, and goes solely by his title, which is…"

"Wait. Let me guess: _Doctor_."

The Time Lord nodded, "Right."

"Are you joking?"

"Would I joke about such a thing?"

"Oh, knowing you, probably not."

The fire was beginning to die down and the damp sea-air was turning chilly. The Doctor plunged his hands deep into his coat pockets and leaned forward, "So, Jack, I have question or two for you."

"Go ahead, Doctor."

"Do you really want to see _this fellow_, as you've called him?"

Jack thought for a few moments and then nodded, "Yeah, I think I do."

"Are you going to be able to cope with whatever it is he discovers about you?"

"Well, I think so, Doctor, but that's my problem not yours. Isn't it?"

"I suppose so, Jack. If you put it that way I guess it is. Lastly, do you want me to accompany you or do you want this visit to be a private affair?"

In the dim light of the dying campfire the Captain gazed into The Doctor's eyes. Jack's expression was exceptionally calm but his mind was working furiously. Finally he shook his head, "Is that a trick question, Doctor?"

"No Jack, not in the least. I'm mindful of what happened with Wil and her desire for secrecy, and I am mindful of your own privacy, Captain. You know I will always be there for you. But I have no intention of being where I am not wanted. I'm a curious person by nature, but I have no desire to learn things I am not meant to learn. As you said, this is your body, your life. If you want to investigate in private the wonderful, complicated mystery that is Jack Harkness, I understand and will abide by your wishes. That's all I'm asking Jack. It's a simple question but maybe not such a simple thing to answer. Do you want me there with you or not?"

Jack Harkness leaned over, reached out with his hand and lightly touched his precious Time Lord's face with his fingertips. To his astonishment, his precious Time Lord did not withdraw from the delicate, ephemeral caress. "Always, Doctor. It's the simplest thing in the whole universe: I always want you with me."

_-00-_

"_At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet."  
_Plato


	4. Chapter 4

**LOVE**

**FOUR**

John rolled over and pulled up the bed linens.

"What's the matter?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Nothing."

He'd decided earlier that he couldn't let it slide. Not one minute longer. Whatever it was, it had been going on for far too long and needed to be brought out into the open. Especially considering all the projecting she'd been doing during their previous conversation about Ecba. Crikey, did she think he'd never read Freud? "Gods above, Wil. Please, don't start lying to me now. Please, please talk to me. When we make love it's like all the pieces are in place but you're just not really there. You're simply going through the motions. Playing a part. Lights on but nobody's home. I know you too well. I love you too much. Something is wrong. Please tell me what it is."

She looked at him but said nothing.

"Is there someone else? Is it me? Have I somehow hurt you? Do you not love me anymore, M'Lady? Do you no longer want me?"

Wil, her face suddenly riveted with pain, closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Sweet Goddess, I've lost you haven't I?" John's expression became one of total resignation, his eyes glistening with sadness and regret. "Whatever it is, whatever I've done, or not done, I'm sorry. Forgive me." He sat up, as if making to get out of bed. He had no idea where he would go, what he would do. He just knew that he had to get away. He had to leave. Leave before it was too late, although in reality it already was too late because his heart was breaking.

But before he could move any further, a hand reached out and grabbed his upper arm. He gasped at the strength of it, at the power of those fingers. The deed's execution had been an unrestrained, almost violent act. Instinctively John moved to seize the hand – or worse. A gut-level survival instinct nearly took control of him. All his mental facilities were spontaneously deployed so that he could stand down from what his body – his very being – had instantly perceived as a mortal, lethal threat. This little surrender, this tiny retreat, went against every single bit of training he'd ever had, it went against every single fiber of his existence. All this happened in an eyeblink… and was tenuous beyond belief. But instead of fighting, instead of grasping her hand and crushing it, instead of breaking her arm, her neck, her spine, John Hart gently covered Wil Beinert's fingers with his own and waited.

He waited for a long time.

The waiting didn't particularly bother him. As has already been well-documented, John Hart possessed a finely honed ability to sit, stand, or lay (whatever the case may be) quietly for hours. He'd already made the decision not to let things slide further. That had been the hard part. The easy part was the waiting, and he would wait forever if he had to. He would wait because he desperately needed to understand what was going on. It was as simple as that. And once he understood, he would act appropriately – whatever it took. If that meant he had to leave, so be it. If that meant he had to change, so be it. Yes, let there be no doubt: he'd do whatever was necessary.

He was, in fact, at peace with himself.

He was not, however, at peace with his lover.

Ever since they left Cardiff, Wil had been strangely remote. On the surface she acted as if nothing was different, her words, her actions were as always. Yet it felt to him like _everything_ was different. When he looked into her eyes – especially when they were making love – it was as if she was a different person. A person who felt very little, if anything, for him.

It had been ironic, and the proverbial last straw for John and his sanity, when she accused him of not wanting to share his thoughts about Ecba with her – accused him of being closed off. It was almost funny. Who did she think she was fooling? Well, it wasn't funny at all because it was clear to John Hart that she was only fooling herself.

He had tried, but he'd not been able to put his finger on what was going on inside her head. At one point in fact he thought it might indeed be related to what happened on Erasmus after she'd left him there with Jaad. So when they'd spoken of it he had been absolutely truthful about his feelings for Ecba, and he knew she'd recognized that truthfulness. He'd come to love the Halikaarn, but as a friend and a brother. While they'd never pledged themselves exclusively to each other, John had no reason and no desire to emotionally or physically cheat on this woman whom he cared for so deeply. He'd not bedded Ecba and what's more the thought had never even crossed his mind. Perhaps that relatively surprising revelation was significant in and of itself, but he'd file it away to think about later.

The fact that he'd almost died on Erasmus? It'd upset her, but that particular story had a happy ending. Enough said…

Of course there'd also been the terrible events that had taken place on Orolo. But with Wil's memories of her abduction and captivity so vague there was little he could do to help ease her mind and soul other than listen, sympathize, and offer his love and support, which he'd been doing to the very best of his ability.

He'd wondered if perhaps his very best wasn't good enough for her. It was always possible. And if it were the case, he damn well knew where the door was and he'd make sure it didn't hit him in the ass on his way out. He'd always prided himself on graceful exits. At least those exits which didn't involve guns, or knives, or explosives…

The only other possibility was the one thing that they hadn't discussed. The elephant in the room. This thing had become, in his mind, the most likely candidate for whatever it was that was going wrong with her, with them. Gray had alluded to it back in Cardiff. No, it was more than an allusion – Jack's brother had cruelly _accused_ her of it. But she'd not brought up the issue again and John had decided very early on that broaching the topic was solely her prerogative. He was there for her, and he felt in this case his mere presence was sufficient – he would not press her on it. Maybe, in retrospect, it was wrong-headed of him to leave it all up to her, but he'd be the first to admit he was a coward at heart – especially when it came to strange, uncomfortable, squishy issues like this one. In the end he felt very strongly that if Gray's insinuations and accusations were actually true, it was up to her to bring up this most personal and private and forlorn of tragedies. That being said, he could, of course, perhaps encourage her…

So he waited patiently, watching her face, and stroking her hand – which was still wrapped around his bicep like a vise – as tenderly, as gently as he could with his fingertips.

Although John thought he was prepared for anything, when the words finally came he realized he'd been mistaken. He had to catch his breath. She opened her eyes and their color was one he'd never seen before – they were a pale, a sea foam green. They were almost transparent in an opaque, impenetrable way, if that doesn't seem too much like an oxymoron. And those eyes gazed at him as if Wil Beinert could look right through his mortal shell and see directly into his heart, his mind, his soul.

"I lost our baby," she said.

_So it is true_, he thought dismally. He hadn't really meant to react that way, but he couldn't hold back the descendent darkness.

"Yes, it is true," she answered, startling him.

He blinked at her in astonishment.

Her eyes bore into him. "I don't know how I know what you are thinking, but I do. It has never happened before now. Before this very moment. Please believe me…"

_The baby._ Again, he hadn't really meant to think it.

"_Our_ baby," she corrected him; the sadness in her voice palpable. "I didn't tell you at the time because I wasn't certain, and yet I think I somehow did know it had to be true – I was carrying a child. I wonder… I fear… that I was engaging in some sort of game, some kind of ghastly self-deception. I am so ashamed…" she shook her head, her face filled with anguish and yet her eyes dry and so very pale, almost lifeless.

"I should've never left you on Erasmus. And then after leaving you, I should've never allowed myself to be tricked into visiting the Gnel. I heaped mistake upon mistake. I do not think I did anything intentionally to harm the child – _our_ child, or to harm myself, but I cannot know that. I cannot promise you, swear to you, that I did not behave deliberately. And if you despise me I can only admit that I may deserve it."

He was keeping his mind blank, not breathing…

"If you hate me for what I've done, I understand. If I can never forgive myself, how could I ever ask you to forgive me? All I can say to you is how very sorry I am. All I can tell you is how full of shame I feel. How much I grieve for what I've lost – your love, our child."

Now the tears finally came. He watched her as she cried. He knew if he took a breath his heart would break. But he also knew that if he was to ever take another breath again, he would have to allow his heart to fly to her.

He lifted her hand off of his arm and pressed it to his lips and then to his heart before speaking. "You… you believe that it is your fault?" He shook his head. "How could any of this be your fault? Yes, you left, but it was my idea. Have you already forgotten that I had to convince you? And that the Erasmii agreed to let you take, agreed to let you _save_ their children? Tens of thousands of children? That it was the Orolo who allowed you to go alone with the Gnel?

"No, this is not your fault. This is no one's fault. It is a long chain of sad events which ended in tragedy. I could never hate you or despise you. You haven't lost me. I love you. I only wish that I had been able to protect you, protect the child." It was something he knew he had to try to say, no matter how difficult, no matter how foreign, no matter how frightening: "_Our _child."

He reached for her, softly kissed her on the forehead, his tears mingling with hers on her cheek. "Can you ever forgive me," he whispered, "for not taking care of you?"

"There is nothing to forgive," she murmured.

_I love you,_ he thought.

"I know," she said, her tears falling anew.

_-00-_

_I love thee, I love but thee  
__With a love that shall not die  
__Till the sun grows cold,  
__And the stars grow old...  
_– Bayard Taylor


	5. Chapter 5

**LOVE**

**FIVE**

As Ianto hurried up to Roald Dahl Plass he was surprised to see Rhys Williams sitting in the dark on a bench outside of the Tourist Information Office. "What are you doing here?" the young Welshman asked breathlessly.

Rhys scowled as if the answer was obvious, "Waiting for you!"

Ianto nodded toward the entrance but Rhys held up a cautionary hand, "Wait a minute! Sit down here and tell me what's going on. I want to know before we go back in there."

An exasperated look was flashed in Rhys' direction but Ianto took a deep breath and sat down next to the man. "You know about Jack's brother Gray, right?"

"You mean the psychopath? Damn straight I know about him. But it was my understanding you dealt with the bugger – took care of him so that he wouldn't ever pose a threat to anyone ever again."

Ianto steepled his fingers, pressed them to his lips and thought. Finally he nodded and placed his folded hands on his lap. "Yes, that is what you, and all of us, were meant to believe. Gray was initially dealt with by Wil's ship, you also know about her right?"

Rhys nodded.

Ianto swallowed hard and put himself into verbose mode.

"Well, Wil's ship enclosed Gray in a sort of a small – um – confinement chamber, for lack of a better term. And then it was left up to Jack to decide what to do with him. After all, Gray is Jack's brother. At any rate, Jack spoke with all of us," Rhys shook his head vehemently and Ianto corrected himself. "All of us who'd been directly impacted by Gray when Jack was last in Cardiff. You weren't excluded purposefully but… well… I can't speak for Jack. He talked to who he talked to. Let's leave it at that for now and move on. He consulted with me, with his former colleague at the Time Agency John Hart, with Wil Beinert, and with The Doctor. I believe he must've talked to Gwen, too, but I'm not one hundred percent sure of that. Although… I'd be surprised if he hadn't spoken with her."

Ianto paused and inhaled deeply before continuing, "I can only tell you with total confidence what I, myself, said to Jack. And perhaps I'm more than a little ashamed to admit it, but I told him in this situation I concurred with Grasshopper – that's Wil's ship, by the way – that Gray should be disposed of, to put it crudely but succinctly. I strongly felt he should be executed. I didn't want the dirty deed to be done inhumanely, you understand. And my recommendation wasn't necessarily easy to make because I know… I _know_ how important family is to Jack. There are ways in which Jack is so alone – there's so much about him that is incredibly lonely and having any family at all would be such a blessing. Beyond that, and despite everything that's happened, Jack still loves his brother and I think he always will. But in the end I agreed the container should be sent into the core of the sun. That's what Grasshopper proposed to do and I concurred. My reason being… well, you said it yourself: Gray is a psychopath. He's a recidivist evildoer.

"I don't know what the others said. How the others advised Jack. I wouldn't be surprised if John and Wil agreed with me. There's no love lost between John and Gray – well between either of them and Gray. I don't think that there's much doubt The Doctor would've counseled leniency, but who knows? I have always suspected there's a lot more to the mysterious man from Gallifrey than he chooses to reveal to us, and that some of what he's hiding behind that beguiling smile of his is foreboding and sinister as hell, if not downright nasty. There are things even the darkness is afraid of…" the young Welshman hesitated for a long beat before continuing. "I believe The Doctor may be one of those things. And as for Gwen…?"

Rhys interrupted Ianto's rambling soliloquy, "And as for Gwen… Gwen is a bleeding heart and a soft touch. She would've recommended compassion and mercy. She always holds out hope that the adrift can be rescued, that the lost can be found. And in Jack's brother's case? Well, it would've punched all the right buttons wouldn't it: missing family, prodigal sons, abused aliens…"

Ianto nodded. "You may be right. But in the end it was Jack's decision. And rightly so – no one could deny that ultimately the judgment was his to make, although I believe Wil was quite concerned, if not extremely worried, and John… well I know you've not met him but John would've been simply adamant and determined and totally inflexible – he's quite a piece of work, John Hart. In fact I think that the Captain started avoiding him, and I believe it was because Jack had just about if not already made up his mind, and he knew John would, erm, dissent stringently. I half-expected another fight to break out between them, and I wasn't looking forward to having to deal with that situation again."

Once more Ianto paused but this time the silence stretched on and on… longer than Rhys was comfortable with.

"And so?" Rhys finally asked when he could wait no more.

The Welshman nodded. "And so Jack made his choice. Mind you, all this happened very quickly, over the span of a couple of hours. But just like when he sought our advice, he again spoke separately with each of us and informed us that he would not be sending his brother into the core of the sun. He would not be committing fratricide. Instead he would preserve his brother in hope that one day…" and here Ianto shrugged, "that one day his brother might be saved.

"He didn't explain why or how he came to his decision or by what method he hoped to one day save his brother. He did not at that point encourage or solicit any further discussion – not with him directly and certainly not amongst ourselves. The case was closed and the verdict was in. There would be no death sentence and there would be, as is usual, no second-guessing the Captain. Not another word was spoken of it and Jack never said, exactly, what he'd done with his brother. But…"

"But…?" Rhys prodded.

"Come on, I'll show you."

The two men went into the Tourist Information Office and then down to the bowels of the Hub and into Jack's, now Gwen's, office. There Ianto Jones pointed to the lower left-hand corner drawer of the Torchwood Three secure storage area. Rhys had been correct… the drawer's door was ever-so-slightly ajar. "As I was telling you… there was much left unsaid but I had my suspicions as to what happened to Gray. This particular area of secure storage is more secure than the others. I once, under Jack's strict orders, removed something from it for him… something that would not be returned. That specific receptacle is double-deadlock-sealed and booby-trapped both from within and without. It is designed so that nothing can get in or out lacking the proper codes. If you mess around with that bin without those proper codes, it would be a very bad thing. The fact that it is now open…"

"Yes?"

"Well, let me just say the fact it has been left open is a very, _very_ bad thing."

"Fuck."

Ianto smiled thinly, "You do have a way with words Rhys Williams."

_-00-_

"_Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone."  
_C.S. Lewis


	6. Chapter 6

**LOVE**

**SIX**

The planet shocked the bejeezus out of Jack Harkness; there was no other way to put it. Miri was a depressing, destitute and impoverished world. Far closer in both form and feature to the fifteenth century than the fifty-first. On the squalid streets the teeming clusters of inhabitants looked for all the world like peasants and the place stank to high hell – the stench of old sweat and unwashed clothes made the Captain want to retch. He shivered slightly, despite the oppressive humidity-laden heat.

"Doctor?"

"What is it, Jack?"

"What is this place?"

The Doctor stopped and looked around almost vapidly. "This is the planet Miri, known to some as Miwoc, in the galaxy known by its denizens as Huw, but identified on Earth by the catalog number…"

Jack's eyes flashed as he rounded on the other man, index finger stabbing accusingly at the Time Lord's chest, "No Doctor! I mean what_ is_ this place?"

"The name of the city is Ascolan…"

"Doctor!" Jack wrinkled his nose. The "denizens," as the Time Lord had described the city's occupants, had a beastlike ambience to them: matted hair, downcast eyes and damp patches of sweat the size of dinner plates spreading under the arms and down the backs of their ragged tunics. There was raw sewage oozing in the streets and a block or two off in the distance the Captain observed what probably stood for the place's version of a domesticated canine, although larger than most terran dogs, defecating on the ground in front of a ramshackle storefront.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

"You're telling me that doctor lives here?"

"This is where he has taken up residence. Again, is there a problem?"

"B-But Doctor… what the hell is going on?" Jack waved his hand through the air. "This looks like the freaking Middle Ages!"

"Jack, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that the vast majority of sentient beings in this universe do not live on technologically advanced worlds."

"But you called him cutting-edge. That's a direct quote! What's a cutting-edge physician doing here?"

The Doctor shrugged, "I told you: he is eccentric. This is where he's decided to set up his practice. Goodness, Jack, one might wonder how you survived nineteenth century Earth."

The Captain glared at the Time Lord, "Oh, I managed to survive it just fine, thank you very much. I kept myself busy while…"

"Oh right! Don't let me forget. You kept yourself busy fighting wars…"

"Can I help it if warfare was and still is commonplace on Earth? I did what comes naturally to me, and being in the military fits me like a glove, Doctor. It's one of the things I do best. Besides, I look good in uniform." The Captain scowled. "I'm not a ashamed of it – the Ten Years' War, the Spanish-American War, the Mexican Revolution, World War One, the Spanish Civil War, World War Two… I always chose the right side of the conflict. I only wish I could've made it in time for the American Civil War…"

"Brother against brother," the Time Lord hissed. "Bloody conflagration."

"A war against the expansion of slavery, Doctor."

"Are you telling me there are good wars?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

The Doctor shook his head sadly. "Six hundred and twenty thousand soldier deaths. Untold civilian deaths. Entire cities burned to the ground."

"And the abolition of slavery."

'You're a dreamer, Jack, if you think that war ended slavery on the Earth."

The Captain's expression turned thoughtful; arguing with The Doctor was often – almost always – fun, but there was a limit to its entertainment value. Beyond that, the Time Lord had a valid point. "No, I know you're right, of course. Nor was the emancipation of the slaves in the United States a silver bullet. Racial inequality…" he shook his head. "It's never stopped being a problem."

"It's not a bad thing to be a dreamer, Jack."

"Well it takes one to know one."

"Hmm?"

"Gray did have one part of it right."

The Doctor's face darkened, "What do you mean by that?"

"Eh? Oh no! Don't get me wrong! I mean when he called you quixotic." The Captain smiled. "And you can't deny it – you _are_ Don Quixote: saving damsels in distress, fighting ferocious giants and carrying out other chivalrous quests…" Jack's eyes sparkled, "And that leaves me… what? Who? Sancho Panza? Well, I guess I'll take that. I'd rather be Sancho than Rocinante! Although maybe Dulcinea…"

The Doctor chuckled, "Is the man of La Mancha really who you think I am?"

"On this day, in this place, at this very moment, it seems to work for me."

"Ah, Jack. I suppose that will do, although if you're implying I'm deluded or insane…"

"Hah! No, I'm not implying you're deluded. What I'm saying is that in my book you are the epitome of brave and selfless chivalry. Your actions are heroic, your spirit sublime and you champion an intellectual and moral world. If there are windmills to be fought, you are the one I'd want at my side."

"Laying it on a bit thick here…"

"You are also, however, crazy like a fox, Doctor."

"I wouldn't be nearly as much fun if I were entirely sane… that reminds me."

"Yes?"

"Call me Thete."

"Huh?"

"You heard me, don't call me Doctor. Call me Thete."

"Erm… and why?"

"Recall who we're going to go see? Having two doctors in the house is simply inviting confusion. I prefer to avoid that. Call it preventive maintenance."

"But… _Thete_?"

"Yes. It's short for Theta Sigma."

"Theta Sigma?"

"My old college nickname."

"You went to college?"

"Yes, of course I did. The Prydon Academy, Captain. Didn't you?"

"Didn't I what?"

"Go to college?"

"Um, well, a couple of times. I tried. I never got my degree though; it always seemed something got in the way of my finishing."

"Something like a war?"

"Well, that, among other things… Life, love, happiness, travel…"

"Hmm. I see. We might have to remedy that some day."

"Oh no, not me. Not this boy. My school days are over. Finished. _Finito_. Final exams? Laboratory exercises? Writing papers? Staying up late studying instead of… well… instead of doing other far more interesting or enjoyable things? Please, Doctor! Spare me! Yuck!"

"_Education makes the man_," Jack.

The Captain scoffed. "But as our good friend Albert Einstein said: _It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education_."

"_Nine tenths of education is encouragement_…"

"Would you stop that?" the Captain paused briefly but then added, "Thete, huh?"

"Yes, and best if you don't mention I'm a Time Lord."

"Whoa! Okay, Doctor. Er, I mean Thete." Jack raised an eyebrow. "Theta Sigma? The likelihood function? Followed by the summation character? Hmm… the True Totality? Curious. Kinda kinky! Anything else you need to tell me?"

"No, well… say nothing about Gallifrey either, but I presume that is implied in the previous statement about my _not_ being a Time Lord."

Jack nodded solemnly.

"Uh, Jack?"

"Yes Thete?"

"While what?"

"Huh?"

"You were saying you kept yourself busy while…"

"Damn, there's that attention surplus disorder of yours again."

"While…?"

"The answer to that question never changes, Doctor… While I was waiting for you, of course."

_-00-_

"_Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great."  
_Roger de Bussy-Rabutin


	7. Chapter 7

**LOVE**

**SEVEN**

Her eyes sparkled, "I had no idea you liked it _that_ much."

John couldn't help but grimace, "Well, it's not the kind of thing one necessarily asks for…"

She grinned mischievously. "Are you telling me you're uncomfortable about something – anything – to do with sex? That you're, um, repressed?"

He returned the smile but then his face turned serious as he searched her eyes, "Wil, this ability of yours to hear what I'm thinking, can you turn it off?"

"I'm sorry, John. I don't know how. I don't know what turned it on in the first place."

"Could you maybe at least try to pretend it isn't happening?"

All things considered, and despite his nagging discomfort with the recent and indubitably disturbing revelation, John Hart was forced to admit that they'd just had the_ most_ amazing sex. It was like she was inside his head, anticipating his every wish, his every need, his every desire, his every fantasy. What's more… and maybe this was the downside, it appeared she actually _was_ inside his head. The love-making had gone on for hours and although in his experience makeup sex was almost always astonishingly good (hell… that was in large part why he and Jack fought so much), this… THIS had been way beyond good. She'd played his body like some sort of musical instrument. It had left him a quivering pool of pure pleasure… repeatedly.

She tenderly took his hand, kissed its palm and then placed it above her left breast. "For you, Captain John Hart, oh heart of mine, I would pretend anything, but I'm afraid it isn't going to make what has happened to me go away. It's like I can perfectly hear your voice, and it sounds just like you, but you're not really, _literally_ speaking."

"Speculate," he said, suppressing an involuntary shiver.

"Um… I don't know that such speculation is productive but I'll give it a shot if you want. Maybe it has something to do with having been pregnant. Maybe it's related to how upset I've been. Maybe it has something to do with how much I love you. How much I don't want to lose you. Or…" she paused, reflecting.

"Yes?"

"Maybe I'm becoming less human, more… something else."

This time he actually did shiver. "Gods, what do you mean by that?"

She shrugged, a tone of exasperation entering her voice, "I don't know. You asked me to speculate, so that's what I'm doing. Strange things, weird things, have happened to me since, well, ever since I met Jack…"

"Tell me about it," he snickered but lost in her own thoughts she totally missed the sarcasm.

"There seems to be a statistical correlation between Jack appearing in my life and really freaky shit happening to me, John.

"Things have happened…" she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Strange things happened to me, were taken away, but then happened to me again. Sometimes I feel like a bloody yo-yo. Or someone's idea of a really bad joke. Time Lords and TARDISes and Terraformers…" She giggled almost manically, her words spilling out faster and faster. "Lions and tigers and bears… oh my! But, John, my psyche feels totally integrated. Centered even. I mean I know I have all these different, for lack of a better word, intelligences inside of me but they don't seem wrong, you know? I don't know how to describe it. I still feel like me. Only there's more than just me inside my head!"

He moved his hand to her face and pushed back a few stray strands of hair, "Hush… it's all right, M'Lady. I have no doubt you are you."

"John…" she cautioned, peering at him intently.

He breathed in loudly through his nose, "Right, you can hear my thoughts. Heaven protect me from lovers with superpowers. First Jack and now you! And I _am_ sorry – Gods, I have a feeling I'm going to be spending a lot of time apologizing to you from now on. So let me apologize ahead of time for all my future apologies!" He laughed but again his expression became somber. "Well, to be totally honest, maybe I am a little freaked out by what's happening. But then who wouldn't be? Damn it Wil, how in the hell are we going to deal with this?"

She looked like she was about to say something, but then she pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Okay, okay… then let me ask you something else. Something maybe you can answer. So… was that it? The guilt trip? Did we cover what's been bothering you? Upsetting you? Or is there other stuff? I mean, you've been through the proverbial wringer. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying losing a baby isn't difficult enough on its own, but I want to make sure, you know? Is there more?"

Wil kissed him and then gently pushed him down on the bed and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. They lay like that for a long while, she thinking, he doing his best not to. "Can we talk about the baby?" she said at length as she closed her eyes, the pain and sadness washing over her.

He pressed his lips to the top of her head, "Yes, of course."

She sighed, "I've always wanted, or at least thought I wanted someday to have children – but I had no intention, John… the pregnancy wasn't deliberate. I take my pills religiously. I know we've never explicitly discussed it, but I would never purposefully make a decision like that without talking to you about it first."

"Accidents happen," he murmured into her hair. "The pills don't have a perfect success rate, we both know that. If you figure the failure rate is five percent, and then think about all the times we've made love… Perhaps the odds were against us. Maybe we just got unlucky."

"Were we?"

"Were we what?"

"Unlucky?

"Well, yeah, I suppose so."

"John what if… what if I told you that I wanted to try again?"

"You… _what?_"

"What if I told you that I want to have your baby? That I want to talk about us having a child? The two of us? Together?"

There was a long silence. "Oh God," she said finally, when she could bear it no further. "I'm sorry; I should've never asked that. I wish I hadn't. I had no idea… None whatsoever! I don't know what the hell is wrong with me – I keep forgetting it's a platonic universe and all we can see are the shadows on the wall of the cave. I'm so sorry." She rolled away and buried her face into the pillow. Fleetingly, the specter of Jack Harkness strafed her consciousness, recalling whispered, late night conversations of love and family and babies. She banished it.

_I'm going to have to get much better at not thinking_, John resolved as he moved to her, spooning his chest comfortingly against her back and doing his best to wrap his arms around her.

"No," he whispered, "_I'm_ sorry. I've never imagined myself as a father or a husband or even a long-term lover. Other than Jack, I've never been in an enduring relationship with anyone, and let's be honest here – I don't think what I have with the Captain can be regarded as a normal relationship by any stretch of the imagination. Wil – I've never thought about it, I've never even considered having a child. It's never seemed like even the remotest possibility. Besides, I'd really suck as a father."

Wil lifted her head and glared at him, her eyes an intense jade interspersed with slivers of blazing gold, "Don't depreciate yourself, it doesn't suit you. You'd be a fantastic father."

"Come on!" he laughed. "Who's lying now? Ask Jack, I'm a nasty son-of-a-bitch who'd just as soon stab you in the back as turn and walk away from you. I travel around the universe, the _universes_ now that I'm trekking with you, never staying in one place for more than a few days at a time. I am constantly getting myself into trouble. Big trouble. Someone is almost always trying to kill me. I am _always_ running away from something – usually multiple somethings. What kind of life is that?"

She grinned, "It sounds like a pretty fun life to me."

He rolled over on his back, pulled her down onto him and kissed her passionately. "You know," he said, "I never responded to that observation of yours."

"What observation?"

John's eyes flashed. "Yes, I do indeed like it that much. At least I think I do. Shall we try it again to be sure?"

_-00-_

_Do you love me because I'm beautiful,  
__or am I am beautiful because you love me?  
_Oscar Hammerstein, II


	8. Chapter 8

**LOVE**

**EIGHT**

"Are you sure, Rhys," Ianto was asking, "that you're not wrong? That Gwen isn't home? That maybe you missed her somehow? You know, like two ships passing in the night? Or perhaps she went to visit a friend at the spur of the moment. Or…?"

Rhys shook his head adamantly. "Come on, Ianto, you know Gwen better than that. If she said she was on her way home that's where she'd go, no question about it. And no, there's no way she could be back at the flat now without us knowing. After all, I left her a note to call me," he pulled out his mobile and waved it through the air. "And she's not phoned, has she?"

"No… no she hasn't," Ianto tried to keep his voice calm in light of Rhys' understandably increasing level of agitation. He walked around to the back of Gwen's desk, rolled the chair out of the way and rifled through the papers that were piled in neat little stacks on the workspace's surface. He spread out the documents and glanced at each one as Rhys looked on.

"Well, I don't see anything here that is helpful," the Welshman eventually acknowledged with a sigh. "There's nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual boring invoices and requisitions and expense accounts and field reports." He pulled open one of the desk drawers, took out a remote and pointed it at the big-screen monitor on the wall. The display flashed to life, "Let's have a look at the CCTV shall we?"

Ianto proceeded to click through a couple of menus. "We'll start the feed at 7 a.m. yesterday morning when I got here and opened the facility." He fast forwarded the video, accompanying it with a running commentary, "And there's Gwen coming in around 8:15, as usual." The two men watched as Gwen made a few phone calls, spent some time on her computer, and then walked out of the office. "So far everything appears typical," Ianto's narration continued. "Gwen then left the building around 10 a.m. and got back a little after 1 p.m. At 2:30 p.m. I walked into her office and sat down and we talked until about 3:15 p.m. At that point she sent me out on an assignment that would take me away from Torchwood for the remainder of the day. This is normal protocol. I got home a little after 9 p.m., checked my email, had dinner, took a shower, watched some television and went to bed."

Ianto paused the video and looked at Rhys, "After I left the Hub at 3:15 p.m. Gwen was alone and on her own. I had no further contact with her – there was no reason to have any further contact with her – for the remainder of the day. Did you talk with her?"

"You mean other than when she phoned me to say she was coming home? No."

"Was your one exchange with her normal?"

Rhys frowned, "As normal as ever. The conversation lasted all of thirty seconds, if that. Like I told you, she said, 'I'm coming home. Do you want anything?' and I said, 'No, thanks. See you soon. Bye!' and that was it."

Ianto nodded thoughtfully and resumed the video, again fast forwarding it as he once more began his attendant narrative. "So after I left she spent quite a lot of time shuffling paper. She got up once, and then a second time and left her office but came back fairly quickly in both instances with coffee. Then she spent some time on the computer interspersed with a number of phone calls. It looks like maybe she made half-a-dozen outgoing calls, I haven't seen any incoming, but again that's not particularly abnormal. Around 10:30 p.m. she logged off her computer, organized her desk, stacked the paperwork into neat piles, and wrote herself a couple of post-it notes which…" the Welshman glanced around the desk and shuffled through a few of the documents, "still seem to be in place. Then just before 11 p.m. she made another phone call. I suspect this was her call home to you. Do you concur?"

Rhys nodded but said nothing.

Now Ianto slowed the video to normal speed. "Okay, so now here we are. You're right; the call is a short one. She puts the phone down, pushes her chair back and looks around. And then…" With this the narration stopped as the two men watched Gwen stand up, slowly walk to the secure storage locker, enter the safe's combination, open the outer doors, and crouch down so that her face was level with the compartment located in the lower left-hand corner of the unit.

"Oh my God," Rhys whispered. "What in the hell is she doing?"

Ianto was wondering the same thing and about to respond to Rhys' question when the video went dark. "Huh?" he said instead.

"What happened?" asked Rhys.

The Welshman pressed a few buttons on the remote, reversed the video and then played it again, to the same distressing result, "I probably don't have to tell you this but it looks like we lost the feed," he muttered. He spent a few more minutes trying several other cameras; but the effect was always the same no matter which angle. Ianto shook his head, looking more and more miserable as he fast forwarded the fifth or sixth feed to approximately 11:03 p.m. on the previous evening and was met by nothing but black.

"Well this can't be good," Rhys commented; his voice sounding very worried indeed.

"You have a penchant for understatement as well as a way with words." Ianto pulled out his cell phone and started punching in a number.

"What are you doing now?"

"Shush, Rhys. I'm calling Martha."

There was a few seconds wait before Martha Jones picked up the phone. The conversation was exceedingly brief. "Martha, this is Ianto. Gwen is MIA and I suspect Gray may be on the loose. I need you to call The Doctor and Jack on that magic phone of yours. Advise them we request their immediate presence here in Cardiff." Without a further word Ianto cut off the call and turned to look at Rhys. He paused for the better part of a minute before revealing his thoughts, his face grim. "I have a bad feeling about this and if what I think happened actually _has_ happened, I'm not overly anxious to deal with it in the absence of adequate reinforcements…"

He was interrupted by his mobile ringing, "Jones here," he said when he answered. "Yes, hello Martha. What? You're kidding! Okay…" There was a delay as he listened carefully to whatever it was Martha was saying; then he shook his head. "No, you know protocol. For now you must stay where you are, but I need you to keep your eyes and ears open, okay? Go ahead and poke around all you want, but just be careful, you understand full well what it is we might be up against."

Again he rang off the call and looked at Rhys. The latter shook his head, "Well, why not bring in Martha and Mickey?"

Ianto sighed, "Other than the fact they've both been seconded to UNIT, you know the answer to that already. It's because we have strict rules of procedure in place. When one of us has been compromised or co-opted – and I'm sorry Rhys but Gwen's behavior on the video is worrying to say the least, and her apparent disappearance is of tremendous concern – then the team is required to geographically disperse itself if it is not already so separated. That way we don't present a convenient single target. But hey, that's not the bad news… the bad news is that Martha didn't get through – she got The Doctor's voicemail instead. He must be away from the cell phone she gave him. So she left a message…" He glanced around the office angrily, "Damn it!" he frowned. "It is a fine mess Jack has gotten us into. And where the hell is he?"

This time it was Rhys' turn to play the cool, composed one. "So what's next, boss?"

"Well…" Ianto's brain was working furiously, weighing options and evaluating strategies. "Jack occasionally invokes an aphorism that I've never forgotten. Sometimes if you find yourself in a threatening situation like this, the thing to do is start a fight – start a fight, even if you do not know how you are going to win it, because it is only when a fight is on, and everything is in motion, that you can hope to see your way through."

The young man nodded to himself, a plan slowly forming in his mind. "In other words, Rhys, you have to start a war to discover how to be victorious. I have a couple of ideas how to get Gray's attention. But first, we need to go down to the armory and get ourselves weaponed-up, because if we do manage to pique Gray's interest, I'm thinking things are going to get real ugly in a big hurry."

_-00-_

_They say to love is to bury  
__those demons from which we all hide.  
_Margo and Michael Timmins


	9. Chapter 9

**LOVE**

**NINE**

The woman sitting behind the desk was absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous; at least that's how Jack saw her.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he said, extending his right hand. "And who are _you?_"

"Vatia," the woman answered as she shook his hand and coolly scrutinized him. After a short time her eyes moved in the direction of The Doctor, who'd been standing a step or two back, contentedly watching the floorshow.

"Oh, and this is my friend, erm, Thete," Jack explained after it eventually dawned on him another introduction might be required.

The building they'd entered was no different than all the others, a ramshackle storefront on a squalid, noisome, crowded street. The only whisper of something different or unusual was the universally acknowledged green and white placard above the entrance identifying the location as a medical facility. The large cerulean door, which was flanked by two small barred windows long since boarded up, was locked so they rang the doorbell and were met with a disembodied yet not unpleasant voice, which now they recognized as Vatia's. "Yes?" it inquired.

"We're here to see the doctor," Jack answered.

The door clicked and the voice returned, "You may enter when ready."

Jack shot _his_ Doctor a relieved look; at least they hadn't been challenged or ignored. "Easy enough," the Captain remarked, raising an eyebrow and stepping aside, allowing the Time Lord to precede him through the entrance.

The difference between the inside of the building and its exterior couldn't have been more pronounced. The two men walked through a cool, almost breezy glass vestibule, the wafting air blowing gently across their skin and ruffling their hair; and then on into a cutting-edge waiting room, all stark white marble and brightly polished chrome and plush black furniture. Tasteful, calming artwork covered the walls. The interior smelled slightly of antibacterials and more strongly of mint; very much unlike the outside, it smelled refreshingly clean.

"I see," Vatia said after the second introduction and after she'd had time to appraise the Time Lord. "Do you have an appointment?"

Jack shook his head, "No, I'm a walk-in. You do accept walk-ins, don't you?"

His question was met first with a level stare but followed shortly thereafter with a smile, "Yes, of course we do." She pulled out an old-fashioned looking clipboard and picked up a real, honest-to-god fountain pen.

"Your full name please?"

"Captain Jack Harkness."

She wrote that down. "Your race?"

"Human."

She looked up at him, nodded and wrote that down as well. "Your gender?"

"Oh, male," Jack answered with a glint in his eye.

"I see. Marital status?"

"Single. Very single."

"Ah. And your home planet?"

"Uh, well, I'm from Boeshane originally, but lately I've been living on a planet called Earth. It's in the Sol system. More recently I guess you could say I've been traveling," Jack shot The Doctor a glance and winked.

Vatia wrote a bit more and then looked up, "Next of kin?"

Jack shrugged before he turned to the Time Lord. "Thete?"

The Doctor cleared his throat, "Uh, yes, you can put down for that. Theta Sigma, that's me. That's my name. I'm Theta Sigma." He carefully spelled it out for her. She wrote it down.

The woman nodded. "And your home planet, Mister Sigma?"

"I-I guess it would be Earth as well, but like my friend Jack here I'm also a traveler. A denizen of the galaxy, you might say." He bestowed one of his most brilliant smiles upon her – to little apparent effect.

"Very well," Vatia looked at the Captain again. "Date of birth?"

"Hmm… well… that's not such an easy question to answer. Can we skip it for now?"

"Of course Captain Harkness," Vatia put down her clipboard and pen, rolled her chair back a few inches and looked up. "Please describe the reason for your visit."

"Right, okay," Jack folded his arms over his chest and settled into his Captain Jack Harkness stance. "I can't die."

For a moment Vatia's calm exterior flashed Technicolor, but just for a moment, "Could you elaborate?"

"I can be killed, but I don't stay dead. I revive. I do age, albeit extremely slowly, but it seems I'm mostly, um, immortal."

"Interesting…"

"And I'd like to understand why."

"Were you born that way?"

Jack shook his head, "No it was a sort of _accident_."

"Dear me. Did you sustain any other injuries during this _accident_?"

"No, not really. Well… just before the accident I was killed. Exterminated by a Dalek. But then I…"

"You revived."

"Yes! Now you've got it!"

"Very well," she said, picking up her clipboard and scribbling a few additional notes. "Do you have any known allergies to medications?"

"No."

"Any other conditions or illnesses we need to be aware of?"

"Nope. I'm as healthy as a horse. Um, that's a large Earth mammal, sorry. I'm quite robust, Vatia. Vigorous. You might even say _virile_."

She set down the clipboard and stood, "Please excuse me while I go check with the doctor. He should be able to see you shortly."

After Vatia left the room the Captain turned to The Doctor, who was busy inspecting a magazine he'd grabbed off of one of the waiting room tables. "What do you think, Thete?" Jack asked.

The Doctor peered at him over the top of his glasses, "Hmm? Oh! Seems fine to me."

"Right…" said Jack. "I wonder if I should've mentioned that one other condition…"

"What other condition?"

"That I've got a bad case of loving y…"

"Jack!"

The Captain snickered, his eyes dancing.

Then the man from Gallifrey slowly looked around the waiting room, "Not very busy, is he?"

Jack shrugged and was just about to say something in response when the door opened and Vatia reappeared.

"The doctor would be happy to see you now, Captain Jack Harkness. However, although we do make exceptions for young children and the frail or elderly, in general the initial consultation is limited to just the doctor and the patient. For privacy reasons you understand." She gazed at the Time Lord, "You may stay here in the waiting room or you can leave the building and come back in an hour. It is up to you, Mister Sigma. That is, if you don't object?"

"Please, call me Thete," The Doctor said to her, and then he turned and looked at the Captain. "Jack, would you mind terribly if I take off for an hour and meet you back here? Like so much of normal life, doctor visits are dreary even while they are happening. I'd prefer to be out and about if that is all right with you? Maybe I'll do some shopping…"

"Shopping?" Jack looked slightly crestfallen but his voice did not betray any hint of disappointment. "That's fine, Thete. Whatever you want. But then I'll see you back here in an hour, right?"

"Yes, Jack. Before you know it."

"This way, sir?" Vatia motioned toward the door from which she'd just reentered the waiting room.

"Yes, of course," Jack said as he winked at The Doctor and then pivoted, his greatcoat swirling around his legs.

The Lord of Time watched as the door closed behind them. He stood for a few moments, listening to the room's HVAC system hum, before finally walking out into the bright, hot, Ascolan noontime sun.

It was only after The Doctor left the building that it dimly dawned on him Vatia had not reclaimed her clipboard. _Strange_, he thought, but then something else caught his attention and the old-fashioned looking clipboard and honest-to-god fountain pen were forgotten.

_-00-_

"_Love cures people – both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it."  
_Karl Menninger


	10. Chapter 10

**LOVE**

**TEN**

Gwen Cooper woke up with a splitting headache, its existence heralded by sluggish, agonizing realization. The pain first coalesced incrementally, while slumber slowly melted away. As it dissipated blessed sleep was replaced by a searing torment just behind Gwen's temples.

"Och!" she moaned as she pressed her face into the… what? She suddenly recognized she had no idea where she was or how she got there. Last thing she remembered…

Gwen opened her eyes and squinted, trying heroically to ignore the drumming, the throbbing, the incessant pounding behind her forehead.

"Hello sweetheart. Welcome back."

She stiffened, her face guardedly going blank but her eyes clearly betraying her true emotions. Betraying her tangible terror…

"Easy there, sweetheart…" Betrayal indeed! "I don't want you to blow a gasket or anything."

Gwen closed her eyes and clenched her hands into tight, hard fists.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? You don't want to say hello to your old friend and admirer?"

There was a few seconds pause as she held her breath, waiting. Unfortunately what she was waiting for didn't take long at all to manifest.

From below her chin icy cold fingers grabbed her face. Her eyes flashed open.

"I really think you should say hello my dear."

"Gray!" she hissed.

"Not exactly the greeting I had in mind but I suppose it will have to do for now. Besides I am ever so grateful to you for what you've done for me. I'm more than happy to give you a little leeway here."

She attempted to sit up, found she wasn't restrained but Gray dropped his hand to her neck and pushed her back down into the soft bedding, his fingertips pressing against her carotid arteries. He wasn't choking her… not exactly… but his continued grip wasn't pleasant, either.

"What I've done…?" she managed to croak.

"Oh yes. What you've done. I had to work on you long and hard while you sat so alone and forlorn in that office of yours. Poor Gwen! It's lonely at the top, isn't it? You were a bit of a hard nut to crack, to be sure, but I had nothing but time. Nothing but patience. Nothing but resolve, because you, sweetheart are definitely worth waiting for. My big brother sure does know how to pick them, doesn't he?"

He brought his face close to hers, kissed her swiftly, delicately on the lips. She tried her best to turn her head away. His hand moved down lower… She grimaced as his fingers probed inside her shirt.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, desperately trying to keep anything that sounded remotely like entreaty out of her voice.

"Oh… _from_ you? Nothing. There's nothing I want from you. Don't you see? I already have you, my sweet. You are totally mine, to do with as I see fit." He shrugged, took his hand from her breast and used it to stroke back her hair.

She clenched her teeth and uttered a low, feral growl.

Mockingly, Gray laughed. "And I do like my lovers feisty. In that way I'm very much like my big brother. Did you ever have him? Hmm? No, maybe not; the two of you would've danced around each other like moths around a flame. Pity… We both enjoy strong, demonstrative women like you who offer more than just perfunctory defiance." He leered at her.

"Not that you're not enjoyable as a mindless zombie. You know, I always suspected it but you really do like sex, don't you? You're insatiable. That attractive little husband of yours, he is a lucky man. Or should I say _was_ a lucky man… I think from this point forward I'll be keeping you all to myself."

Her eyes went wide.

"Dear me, you don't remember do you?" he smirked. "Well, it breaks my heart to think you've already forgotten me and what we've had – what we shared together, but there'll be plenty of time for us to refresh your memory while we wait…"

"Wait…?"

Gray rolled his eyes. "Gods above! Not the old trying to get me to talk trick, is it? That is such a bore and we have far, far better things to do. Sweet Gwen, it has been such a long time since I had a female lover. I'd forgotten how soft and smooth you are. How good you smell. How warm and lasting your embrace is." Again he leaned over, brought his mouth to her ear and kissed it, only not so delicately this time.

"Why are you doing this?" there was outrage but also fear clearly evident in the sound of her voice.

"You're not going to shut up about it are you?" he murmured into her hair as he lowered himself down onto the bed. "Well, I could change you back into a sex toy but I'd much prefer to keep this intense fire of yours kindled. I find it exciting… I find you thrilling…" He kissed her neck. She tried to push him off but he only pressed down onto her harder. "The more you fight, the more I enjoy it. The more you resist me, the more I want you. That's like Jack, too, or didn't you know?"

"Jack…" she whispered without intending to.

"Yes, Captain Jack Harkness." His grasp, his voice turned hard, hot. "I do want you, sweetheart, but of course it's my brother who I really want; who I'm determined to have. And I'm sorry but you'll simply have to accept it: you're just the snare – a way for me to get to him. And to get what I want from him – to make my handsome and heroic big brother regret that he was ever born. But you're a damned delectable, desirable snare, and I don't think I'm going to get tired of partaking of you any time soon."

He raised his head and stared into her eyes. Although she wanted to look away, Gwen found that she couldn't. Although she wanted to resist, she found that she couldn't do that either. "And I can make sure," Gray said as he peered into the depths of her soul, "that you don't get tired of me."

_-00-_

"_Hatred ever kills, love never dies."  
_Mohandas K. Gandhi


	11. Chapter 11

**LOVE**

**ELEVEN**

As Jack Harkness regained consciousness he did a quick inventory of his mental and physical condition. As far as he could tell, he was still all right. There was no ambiguity or confusion clouding his mind as to the situation he was in; his thoughts were clear and cold and sharp as ever.

Oh yes, the Captain knew precisely what was going on – he was being killed repeatedly and the situation was becoming monotonous if not downright exhausting. The deaths had been varied and for the most part violent. There had also been a somewhat prurient aspect to them, which perhaps under normal circumstances might've been intriguing. But these were not normal circumstances…

He opened his eyes and checked his bonds; they were as secure as ever. No surprise there. "Iserliss, Vatia," he growled, "haven't you had enough yet?"

"Oh dear boy, never," the doctor – the _other_ doctor – responded matter-of-factly. "You really are quite a find and we've only just begun."

Jack shivered involuntarily. "You know, I may not have unlimited rejuvenations. It is possible you'll eventually really kill me. I'm not saying that by doing so you won't be doing me a huge favor, but I can't guarantee that I'll last forever."

"I don't think you have to worry, my good Captain Harkness. From what we've learned about you so far, I believe your capabilities may indeed fall into the realm of the infinite."

"Oh goody for me," Jack muttered under his breath. He glared at the two people who stood before him.

When he'd first been brought into the presence of Iserliss he could easily see why some might have found the man unpalatable. It wasn't that the physician looked totally bizarre – in fact quite the opposite. The bioreconstruction was miraculous – on the surface Iserliss appeared totally normal. Except, that is, for his eyes. His eyes were clearly not organic and there had been no attempt made to hide that fact. They were unusually large, mirror-like orbs covered by a rheumy sort of oil slick-like surface which at times dripped or spread onto his lashes and eyelids. Those eyes shined with a strange, ungodly internal light; the metallic-like goop that constantly seemed to coat and leak from them produced a sodden, almost tearful appearance – that is if tears were composed of mercury. For some reason the sight made Jack feel like sneezing.

So, no doubt about it the physician's eyes were indeed freaky, but as Jack eventually discovered in-between assorted deaths, there were other less obvious but equally if not even more nauseating strangenesses. No matter what he was talking about, the doctor's voice had a dreary monotone quality to it. The Captain supposed there were people who might perceive that flatness as calming, maybe even comforting, but the lack of any vocal inflection whatsoever creeped Jack out big-time.

And then there was the way Iserliss moved. Mobility was the irrefutable evidence that the man was largely reconstructed, despite his mostly normal outward appearance. Jack couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Iserliss moved like nothing he'd ever seen before – at least nothing _alive_ he'd ever seen before. The physician's movements were too quiet, too smooth, too effortless. It actually took Jack a few minutes to realize that Iserliss made absolutely no sounds – no breath noises, no footsteps, no nothing, except for the sound of his voice when he spoke. The stealthiness was disconcerting, to say the least.

At first the entire situation seemed kind of funny and Jack had laughed inwardly; he'd unexpectedly found himself in the presence of Victor Frankenstein and Igor, except in this particular case Frankenstein was the grotesque ogre, and Igor the attractive human. And no doubt about it – Vatia was extremely attractive. The irony was not lost on the Captain that apparently in this warped tale of horror _he _was the monster being experimented upon.

"Care to share what you've learned so far?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

Iserliss shook his head. "It is far too early in our research to start talking about results. As I already explained, we've only just started here. You're a complicated thing, Captain Harkness."

Jack smiled, "I've heard that before."

"But you are. I've never encountered or even heard rumors about anything like you. And let me tell you, Vatia and I have seen a lot in our time together." The physician reached out and extended a hand to his lovely associate. She accepted it warmly.

"Yeah," Jack narrowed his eyes and scowled at the unsavory display of affection, "I should've seen _that_ coming. But I'm still wondering what a beautiful woman like you sees in a revolting piece of work like him."

"Then you know nothing of love," Vatia responded.

"Oh, I know plenty about love. I know so much about love that I also know there's something else going on here. There's got to be."

"A fruitless, uninteresting, banal topic of discussion," Iserliss interrupted. "Perhaps it is time to resume our work?"

"Yeah, about that," the Captain said. "When my friend The Doc – uh, Theta Sigma, gets back, he's not going to be very happy to find me trussed up like a pot roast, being exposed to frequent and incessant killings." Jack shook his head, "No, he'll take a dim view of it indeed."

Iserliss clicked his tongue several times. It sounded frigid, mechanical, heartless. "You needn't keep up the deception, my dear boy. We know full well who your charming companion is. We knew it from the moment the two of you arrived on this planet, in that wonderful time-traveling ship of his. You see, nothing gets by us on this world, nothing escapes our attention – certainly not the arrival of _Ka Faraq Gatri_ – it's why we chose to make Miri our home in the first place. We are indeed honored to be visited by _Karshtakavaar_, the Oncoming Storm, but we have no intention of encountering him again, even though it has been ages – lifetimes – since we last laid our eyes upon him. While what The Doctor, he of the multiple regenerations, has to offer is intriguing, it is not as nearly as intriguing as true immortality because even a Time Lord can and will die. Yes, it is indeed possible. We know it, we have proof of it. We have witnessed it. We have witnessed Time Lord death and it is quite extraordinary. But you – you Captain Jack Harkness are an impossible thing that we have not witnessed previously, nor even believed achievable."

Again Jack smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes, "And I've heard that before too."

"Vatia, my love?" the physician turned to his partner and Jack thought briefly he'd never heard such a warm term of endearment spoken so coldly. But that's all he had time to think about as the woman picked up what looked like a small aerosol can and sprayed something that smelled strange, and yet on the edge of familiar, in the air above the Captain's head.

Then she removed from a cabinet what could only be a small acetylene torch. It popped and fizzled as she pulled its trigger and lit the tiny, bright blue flame.

"Oh God," Jack moaned just before the blaze engulfed him.

_-00-_

"_Each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved."  
_Oscar Wilde


	12. Chapter 12

**LOVE**

**TWELVE**

Precisely one hour after his departure – never let it be said that the Lord of Time was not acutely aware of the passage of Time, at least when it suited his purposes – The Doctor was once again standing in front of the large cerulean door. It was locked. This fact didn't surprise him and frankly he'd not expected it to be unlocked.

So he rang the doorbell. When no pleasant, disembodied voice responded, he rang it again, and then a third time.

_Hmm_, he thought to himself. Then he formed his right hand into a loose fist and with the knuckle of his index finger he rapped on the door. "Hello?" he said, "is anybody home?"

Again there was no response so he made his hand into a tighter fist and this time knocked on the door quite a bit more animatedly. The rapping sound echoed in the air around him. "Hello!" he yelled louder. "I'm here! Open up!"

The Doctor took a step back and meticulously scrutinized the door and its surroundings. "Well this is odd," he said to no one in particular, "I wonder where they could be." He tried the door again, but with no success – it was still locked.

He reckoned there was a video feed, or perhaps it was only a microphone, somewhere nearby, but after a few moments of careful examination he could locate neither.

Then he took yet another step back and looked up. The green and white medical facility sign was still there – he was indeed in the right place. "Sorry about this, Vatia," he muttered as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He activated it, changed its setting and then listened to its hum while he pointed it. Then he dropped it back inside his coat's inner breast pocket and gently poked at the door with his index finger. The door swung open freely.

"About time!" he commented dryly as he strode through the entryway and into the unoccupied waiting room. "Well, where is everybody?" he asked as he looked around. Nothing seemed particularly out of place, it was just that no one was there.

He sat down, picked up a magazine and agitatedly paged through it. After about thirty seconds he put it down, "This is ridiculous!" he grumbled. He stood up, paced back and forth across the waiting room a few times, looked around and then walked behind the reception desk. The old-fashioned looking clipboard was still there with Vatia's neat handwriting spread across its surface. He picked it up. "Captain Jack Harkness," the Time Lord read out loud. "Human, male, single," he continued. "And where the hell is Captain Jack Harkness now, hmm?" he glared at the clipboard as if it could answer him and then dropped it back down on the desk in disgust with a resounding clang. "Stupid thing!"

Next he marched over to the door he'd watched Jack and Vatia disappear through just before he left the clinic a little more than an hour earlier. He tried it. "Locked, of course," was his pronouncement. Again the sonic came out and again it hummed. As expected the door opened before him. The sonic went back into his pocket. The Doctor walked through the doorway, and was confronted by a long hallway lined with – you guessed it – more closed doors. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.

But then more loudly: "Jack! Are you here? Hello! Anyone? Jack?"

There was nothing but silence and the drone of the HVAC.

He tried the first door. _Locked_. The sonic came out. _Unlocked._ He pushed the door open and walked in. It was basically a typical examination room, empty except for the exam table, two chairs, and a small locked cabinet. The Doctor pointed his sonic, easily unlocked the cabinet and examined the contents of its drawers. "Medical paraphernalia. Nothing particularly unusual here," he murmured to himself as he walked out of the room and on to the next door.

He inspected five rooms, all identical down to the contents of their cupboards. "Come on, Jack, where are you?" he said to the sixth door, locked like all the rest. But once opened, the interior of this room was definitely not like any of the others.

Jack's clothes were neatly folded and stacked on the exam table. The Doctor picked up the shirt from the top of the pile and sniffed it cautiously. "Jack?" he said, worry now creeping into his voice as his eyes scoured the room. "What's going on here?"

He shook out the shirt, held it to his nose briefly and then looked at it intently, inside and out, before tossing it aside over the back of one of the chairs. Next came the trousers, followed by the t-shirt and boxers. Each in turn he shook out, sniffed, and examined in great detail before setting it aside. Finally he arrived at the Captain's greatcoat. He pressed it to his face and inhaled deeply. Then he inhaled again before allowing it to gracefully unfold down to his feet. Using one hand to hold on to the collar he used the other to start methodically going through the coat's pockets. It was not long before he found what he was looking for.

"Ah ha!" he held it up like a prize and for a transitory moment a smile flashed across his face. "Got you my beauty!" He tossed the garment onto the chair with the rest of the discarded apparel and addressed Jack's precious leather wristband. "And what has happened here?" he said to it, knowing full well that it really, truly couldn't answer him. "What has become of your owner, eh? What has happened to my friend Captain Jack Harkness?"

He shoved the well-worn strap into his own coat's pocket and scooped up the Captain's clothing before walking to the next door. Once again he fiddled with his sonic and the door opened.

As he entered, he gasped audibly. The exam room was absolutely filled with indelible evil – some of it sickeningly apparent, some of it concealed but no less fierce. In the visible spectrum there were weapons scattered about and blood and other bodily fluids pooled on the floor and spattered across the walls. Then there was the unseeable devilry: The Doctor sensed a truly malevolent, single-minded and forceful intelligence. There was madness on an inconceivable scale; the darkest nightmares of a diseased mind run amok. And he was nearly overwhelmed by the psychic remnants of phenomenal, horrific pain. Beyond even that, the room utterly reeked of death. His eyes welled up with tears, "Oh Jack," he whispered, "what has become of you?"

With one arm he held the Captain's clothing close to his chest, with his free hand he picked up the numerous discarded implements of death one at a time and as he gripped each object firmly in his fingers he closed his eyes and forced himself to examine the secrets lurking within. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, forcing himself to face those terrible and terrifying weapons and the horrible truths each possessed. To see each dreadful item as Jack had seen it, to feel what Jack had felt when it… when the hateful thing was used to hurt him, maul him, kill him.

Eventually The Doctor could stand it no more, he stumbled against the wall and then out of the exam room into the empty waiting area. He collapsed onto one of the couches, still clutching the Captain's clothing to his breast, to his hearts, his tears now freely flowing.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry," he repeated over and over again.

Eventually the words and tears slowed and finally stopped. For the longest time The Doctor sat quietly. He was stoic, unmoving. Well, not quite totally unmoving. His eyes were swiveling back and forth, and they were aflame with a fire not seen burning in those same old, ancient, eternal eyes for a long, long time.

He rested the treasured armful of clothing down onto his lap and then neatly, precisely, folded each piece before laying it on the couch next to him. Soon Jack's clothes were all in a carefully arranged stack once again. He smoothed the top of the pile one last time with his outstretched fingers, letting his hand rest there a moment longer than strictly necessary.

The Doctor took a deep breath, stood up and stretched out his back. Restlessly, he flexed his shoulders and rocked gently from side to side on the balls of his feet. He pulled the old, worn leather wristband out of his coat pocket and looked at it, first sadly and then more and more resolutely. "If you think," he said, tearing his eyes from it and staring up at the ceiling and beyond, into the vastness of Time and Space, "that I'm just going to sit back and let this happen; well… you have another think coming."

He was a lone warrior, armed only with the sound of his voice, confronting anything and everything that was wicked and despicable in the universe.

Then he pressed the little blue button.

_-00-_

"_Whoso loves, believes the impossible."  
_Elizabeth Barret Browning


	13. Chapter 13

**LOVE**

**THIRTEEN**

Wil was awake – watching John sleep – when the little blue light began to flash on the wide leather strap encircling his wrist.

She had learned quite early on in their relationship that really the only time she ever got to see him stationary was while he slept. Otherwise John Hart was always shifting, always in motion: his body, his hands, his eyes, his smile…

So she'd become a bit of a voyeur although it was actually no deep, dark secret. He'd caught her at it plenty of times. "What are you staring at?" John had once asked after awakening and opening his eyes only to discover he was staring directly into hers.

"I'm watching you sleep," she'd smiled serenely. "I love watching you sleep; you're beautiful when you sleep." He'd reached out, pulled her into him, and kissed her, fully realizing, of course, her answer had been a non-answer, a ruse, a diversion, carefully stated and arranged in order to encourage him to think of something else entirely (that something being sex). In that attempt at misdirection she'd been successful, and in reality it bothered John not at all to wake up and find her watching him. In fact he rather enjoyed the idea of it… Like so many things about her, it excited him.

It truth, it was the quietness, the serenity and the absence of his normal frenetic level of activity which she found so dear in his slumbering face, his slumbering form. Although by no means could he be described as innocent, John Hart slept with the innocence of a child – his face almost angelic in its sweetness. His breath slow, his hands relaxed, his occasional sighs softly lyrical: it calmed her to watch him.

It turned out to be extremely fortuitous for such John-watching that he seemed to require more sleep than she, at least under normal conditions. When the shit was hitting the fan (or when it was something more _arousing_ in which they were involved) he could go without as easily as she, but in general she frequently found herself awake while he was not and, like now, tranquilly gazing at his face in peaceful repose.

She most assuredly needed that tranquility because earlier, after they'd finished their lovemaking and he'd fallen deeply asleep, Wil had come to realize she could even hear his dreams – although they were far muddier than the sharp, distinct, highly explicit thoughts he was transmitting to her when he was awake. The dreams were vague – roiling, confusing, full of shadowy, sometimes spooky, images and sounds. They shook her to her core. And for the record, to be more precise, it was not the content of the dreams _per se_ she found disturbing, but rather their fuzziness – their lack of clarity. They left her feeling discontented, uncomfortable, unbalanced.

Finally his dreams quieted and her lover simply, silently slept. As she watched his chest move gently up and down she revisited their recent "unproductive speculation" conversation and the theories she'd reluctantly put forth as to her strange and worrisome condition. And worrisome was the correct word for it – she had no idea how to answer his more-than-reasonable question as to what they were going to do about this rather serious new wrinkle in their relationship

None of the theories she'd espoused had felt right, but there was nothing else that worked any better.

"Grasshopper?" she said soundlessly as she closed her eyes.

"Yes, Teacher?"

"Do you understand what has happened to me?"

"No, Teacher, unfortunately I do not. Nor is there anything I'm finding in the Time Lord database that matches what you are experiencing."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"I suspect because you realize you are a unique case, Teacher?"

"Well, that's putting it nicely. Thank you, Grasshopper!"

"You're welcome, Teacher."

"Care to speculate?"

"Beyond what you have already conjectured?"

"Yes, Grasshopper, beyond my previously expressed theories."

"As you wish, Teacher. There are of course many hypotheses one would say occupy the realm of the impossible…"

"You can skip those for now."

"Yes, I thought I might. Falling more into the realm of the probable, there is the possibility that the Orolo did something to you, whether purposefully or not, when you were lying unconscious in their hospital. As per your wishes I did not monitor you constantly…"

"And I thank you for that."

"You're welcome, Teacher. Still, it is theoretically plausible…"

"Do you not think that is a bit paranoid, Grasshopper?"

"Yes, yes it may seem paranoid, Teacher, but it would also seem that perhaps one of my jobs is to be paranoid on your behalf, since you keep getting yourself into trouble which could have been easily avoided if sufficient thought and care had been taken…"

"Oi! That's harsh!"

"You asked me to speculate, Teacher."

"Yes I did, but the Orolo? Crade? I find that far more impossible than possible. Let's lose the paranoia. Anything else?"

"Yes, Teacher."

"Well, what is it?"

"That the Gnel damaged you more than we know."

"What do you mean?"

"You suffered brain trauma, Teacher. There are many documented cases of psychological changes resulting from such injuries. Is it too impossible to believe this might have happened to you? That perhaps the damage you sustained resulted in such an alteration?

"You mean I got my head banged up so now I can hear John Hart's thoughts?"

"We do not know that your ability is limited to only John Hart. Need I remind you there are no other organic sentient life forms within thousands of light years?"

"Ah, this is true!"

"And Teacher, as I mentioned earlier, you are a unique case."

"Who knows? Another bump on the head and I might be able to bend spoons with my mind?"

"Indeed, Teacher."

"Poor John!"

"Why is that?"

"One lover who's immortal and another who's telepathic. He might get an inferiority complex."

"Knowing Captain Hart, that seems unlikely."

She smiled inwardly, opened her eyes and looked at him. That's when she noticed the flashing blue light on his wristband. She leaned over and gently touched his shoulder, "John, wake up."

He was awake and alert in a nanosecond, "What is it?"

She lightly ran her fingers down his arm to his wrist. "The flashing blue light," she whispered.

Wil was not prepared for the deluge of loud, discordant thoughts which followed, especially on the heels of the quiet, consoling conversation she'd just been having with her ship. They were complicated, intense, highly charged thoughts. But not only that – there was an absolutely astonishing amount of ambivalence in them as well. Clinical ambivalence. _Freudian_ ambivalence. She tried to hide her surprise.

"John?" she said.

"What?"

"We have to go."

"Yes, I fucking know," was his shockingly hostile response.

And so she came to realize that yes indeed he did know they had to go. But he wasn't happy about it. No… he was not happy about it at all.

_-00-_

_"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies."  
_Aristotle


	14. Chapter 14

**LOVE**

**FOURTEEN**

"Oh my God!" Gwen Cooper howled with laughter as she pushed Gray off of her and rolled onto her side to face him. "I don't believe it! You're fucking impotent. Not only can you not keep it up, you can't even get it up!"

Her words came fast, furiously, without a second's pause in between, giving him neither time nor opportunity to respond to her tirade.

"I mean you are pathetic! Not only are you what they say – a liar and a coward and a bully. Oh, and a murderer, too. But add to the list a rapist, and a damn bad one at that. No wonder you're so fucked up. It must be bloody terrible to be you. To be so barren, so feeble, so incapable.

"And how dare you compare yourself to Jack? Well, let me tell you – I _do_ know. You were wrong about that because I know very well indeed! Shall I compare and contrast? Oh! I'd be happy to! I could write sonnets about Captain Jack Harkness! I could compose an epic about him! He's an amazing, attentive, inventive, incredible, breathtaking lover. He can go on and on for hours… and talk about multiple orgasms! My God, I've never seen anything like him. He's the stuff of dreams: the man who keeps going, the man who never stops. He keeps coming back for more again and again and again, each release more intense than his last." She laughed anew, her eyes bright with mirth. He slapped her across the face but she ignored him.

"Yes, Jack Harkness is amazing while you… you are inadequate, meager, puny. I feel sorry for you! I pity you! I do, seriously! And what planet have you been living on anyway? Huh? Thinking you can use sex as a weapon? Use it to intimidate me? Scare me? Dominate me? Well, welcome to the twenty-first century little brother, little boy, where sex is wonderful and fun and satisfying and something to share and nothing to get uptight about. I've had lots of lovers – I still do, but you… YOU win the prize as the most worthless and mediocre of them all."

"I liked you better as a mindless zombie," Gray managed to sputter while she took a breath.

"Hah! I bet you did! You enjoy sticking your cock into tight, round, cold, dead spaces? Well maybe I should find an empty beer bottle just for you, hmm? Is that your idea of a good time? Is that your notion of proper sex?" Gwen shook her head as she narrowed her eyes, "I can't quite remember what it was that John told me about you – when you had him under your power. He said something like no matter what you did he really couldn't get excited by you. Imagine that! John Hart – the man who gets aroused by looking at a freaking poodle! You're really a lost cause if you can't give Captain John Hart a hard-on."

"Shut up, bitch!" he struck her again, this time more viciously. But again she just ignored him. Then she chuckled knowingly.

"Does that turn you on? Beating me up?" Gwen pressed the inside of her wrist to the corner of her mouth and found a few drops of blood. "Is that the kind of perversity you're into? Sadism? _Schadenfreude_? Well, I know a few women who might really enjoy that, would you like me to introduce you? They hang out in Cardiff's red-light district, if you know what I mean… but I'll warn you, they won't be cheap."

She rolled over onto her back, a sardonic smile on her face, "Or maybe you'd like to try again? Give it another shot? Hey, I'm game. Ask Jack or anyone else I work with – I'm always willing to try to help someone or some _thing_ in distress. I'm a soft touch, I admit it! I might even have time to take you on as a special project. It seems I have a vacancy in my schedule ever since you managed to exterminate Owen Harper. Poor Owen… now there was one singularly screwed up individual. Well, even compared to him you present quite challenge… but I'm up for it if you are, pun intended, little brother. What do you say, hmm?"

He rose from the bed and angrily threw the blanket, covering her naked body. "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up," he growled. "You wait until Jack shows up. Then I'll show you."

Her eyes danced, "Oh hooray! Indeed! I simply cannot wait! Do you have some sort of plan in mind? Some sort of nefarious, dreadful, evil, _cunning_ plan? I hope so because you know what? Whatever it is, Jack is going to kick your butt. Let me tell you – Jack Harkness is an amazing lover, but he's amazing at everything he does. He's an amazing friend and an amazing boss and an amazing colleague and an amazing teacher. He's even an amazing dancer… can you beat that? But he's also something else and I've been lucky enough to watch it first hand: he's an amazing enemy and I'm betting you're about to find out for yourself just how amazing of an enemy Jack Harkness can really, truly be…

"Hey! Where are you going?"

Gray slammed the door behind him as he stalked out of the room.

Gwen Cooper looked down at the blood where her fingernails had cut deep into her palms and tried not to throw up.

_-00-_

"_The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love."  
_William Sloane Coffin


	15. Chapter 15

**LOVE**

**FIFTEEN**

"John?" she said again.

"_What?_"

"What's the matter?"

"As if you didn't know!" his voice sounded bitter, verging on nasty.

"No – I don't know! You're not thinking – you're emoting. All I sense coming from you are these incredibly intense, incredibly ambiguous feelings about…" she paused, not wanting to go on any farther but realizing she was trapped into continuing, "…about Jack."

He looked at her, clenching his jaw and apparently unable to speak. Again, for some reason, she felt compelled to push forward into new, uncharted territory.

"I had no idea – I mean you love him, John. You love Jack. And yet you despise him. Why…? What…?" finally her words failed her; she could go no further. This was not something she could dissect or troubleshoot or even understand without getting the man to open up and talk.

She reached for him but he turned away, got up out of bed and stood naked in front of her, staring at her like she was a stranger he'd never seen before. Then he held up his right arm as he formed his hand into a tight fist, "It's this thing," he said, turning his gaze to the leather strap on his wrist. "Will I never be unbound from him?" His face was livid, sneering. "We're like some pitiful divorced couple, unable to be totally free of each other, always needing each other for something or another. Always dependent upon each other. Always feeding off of each other. Never allowed to get on with our own lives! Will it never end?" His knuckles were turning white, the nails of his fingers biting into his palm.

"But John! He just saved your life. He came running…"

"Gods above! And don't you see? That's part of the problem! Do you think he hesitated for even a moment? That he had a breath of doubt in his mind when he saw the flashing blue light? No! Not Jack Harkness! He dropped everything and came!

"Do you not remember that I told you I've never been in a real, long-term relationship with anyone other than him? How could I ever be in such a relationship with someone else when Jack and I are always circling around each other like binary stars? What lover could ever top the dashing, heroic, amazing Captain Jack Harkness? What lover could fight against a history, a relationship, a _man_ like that? Do you not see it? Do you not see why no other lover has ever stayed with me? It's not that the opportunity never presented itself! Who could go up against that? Against him? Against his enormous presence in my life? Who would want to? Who would choose to? Who could bare it?

"I myself can't withstand him! I cannot withstand his siren's clarion call. He snaps his fingers and I jump! It doesn't matter what I'm doing or where I am or what I'm in the middle of. It has never mattered. All that matters in the end is him!"

John shook his head despondently then extended out his arms horizontally from his sides, his fingers outstretched into the air, his shoulder muscles tense. "You and I – we've been going through something here. The Gods only know exactly what the hell it is, but _I_ know it's damn important and if we don't work through it… well, I'm not sure about you but I know I'll regret it because I think whatever this is, if we don't deal with it, it will end us. We won't survive as a couple. We'll self-destruct. But then Jack…"

Again he clenched his hands into fists and he shook them vehemently in front of his chest. "And the worst part of it? I see the same bloody thing in you, the same dreadful debility. Maybe not as extreme as what's infected me, but it's like I'm smelling blood in the water – I know, I can tell you're ready to drop everything to go to him. I know if I said _no_ that you would leave anyway, abandon me here and race to him."

She made as if to argue but he cut her off. "I know this. Without a doubt I know this to be true and how do I know it? Because I am the exact same way. A few hours ago you were the single most important person in the universe to me. Working through our problems, talking about our future, nurturing our relationship, even discussing having a child together – they were the most important things in my life. And now…" he shook his head bitterly and then looked at her intently, "now all that matters is Jack. Can you deny it? Can you deny it is the same for you?"

He was trembling, his eyes more luminescent than she'd ever seen them, his face and body glistening with perspiration. She wanted desperately to fly to him, to hold him in her arms and to be held by him, but something stopped her. His emotions were nearly overwhelming her and yet she had to admit, she knew damn well, that everything he'd said was absolutely true.

But there was also something else there. She grasped for it…

"John, what you say – it may be right but it doesn't mean I don't love you. It doesn't mean that you don't love me. It doesn't mean that we can't be together. That we can't continue to build a future together. There's nothing I want more. Jack may be amazing, but…"

"But what? He _is_ amazing! He's the best friend anyone could ever have. He's loyal. He's caring. He's brave. He's fearless. He's bloody perfect! And worse, he's contagious! He infects you with his loyalty, with his fearlessness. You want to become perfect, too, but compared to him, I'm nothing. I'm…"

Now she did stand up and face him directly, "You're whining, John."

He blinked. "What? Oh, right. Yes I am. I'm whining. And what of it? I've never hidden the fact that I'm a whiner and a coward and a liar and a cheat. Why the hell not whine? My life isn't my own. My relationship with you doesn't exist. And already there's a part of me – a big part of me – that's screaming _enough already!_ Screaming that we need to put all else aside, put an end to this stupid argument and race to him. That what we're doing here is just wasting precious time. That I need to see him, touch him… and if he's in trouble, I need to save him, or die trying, just like he always saves me. Just like always! I'm trapped in an infinite loop, we're both trapped, Wil, and admit it – neither of us is going to say _no_. There are very, very few who can say _no_ to Jack Harkness."

"Groundhog Day," she murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing… Forget about it. The question is, John, would you really want it any other way? Would you really want to break out of that infinite loop?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I could ask Grasshopper – with her help we have the ability to put an end to this, forever. To separate ourselves from him, from Captain Jack Harkness, permanently. The little blue light on your wristband would no longer flash, John. It would go dark, and so would his. There would be no more seeing, no more touching, no more saving. It would be so very simple to do, it would be instantaneous and it would be everlasting. The only thing remaining would be the memories. Jack would never know what happened to us. He would never be able to summon you again, or intrude on your life, or disrupt your relationships. You would be free of him. Is that what you want, John?"

His face was unreadable as he listened to her proposal. His answer, when it came, and in truth he did not need much time at all to think about it, was resolute; his words and his thoughts for once in perfect harmony.

"Are you joking? Come on, let's go."

_-00-_

"_If I know what love is, it is because of you."  
_Herman Hesse


	16. Chapter 16

**LOVE**

**SIXTEEN**

"What are these things?" Rhys Williams asked; his voice full of wonder.

Ianto Jones scowled, "They're weapons."

He'd brought Rhys down deep into the tunnels and inside one of the more carefully concealed areas of Torchwood, hidden within the bowels of the facility. And as far as Ianto knew, Rhys was now only the third person presently alive to know of this place, along with himself and of course Captain Jack Harkness. It was one of Jack's secret armories – a private cache of phenomenally lethal implements. Ianto wasn't even sure that the Captain had told Gwen about these carefully concealed hoards. Stored within this locked and covert arsenal were weapons so poisonous, so virulent, so bloodthirsty, so cruel that they frightened the young Welshman half to death even as they merely rested silently in their cupboards, unused and inert.

"But I've never seen anything like them…" Rhys reached out a hand toward a small, shiny object. Like a viper, Ianto snatched the limb in midair, holding it firmly in place. Although the action was violent, his tone was totally calm.

"No touching."

Rhys' anger flared up but it was instantly tamped down by Ianto's subsequent explanation, voiced in a half-whisper and almost reverentially.

"Even I don't know what some of these are. Only Jack does. The ones I do know about, he's given me many – dare I say endless – lectures on. He's taught me how incredibly dangerous they are, even in the studied and skilled hands of an expert like himself. They're dreadful and lethal and horrific – but the ones he didn't tell me about are even more terrible.

"There are WMDs here that could destroy the entire world if not the solar system. Possibly the galaxy. Weapons that could spawn a supernova, or form a black hole, or tear a rupture in the spacetime continuum. And then there are worse…"

Ianto released Rhys' arm and met his gaze unwaveringly. "Not long ago Jack revealed to me he had a container filled with tiny little programmable nuclear reactors. Less than a thimbleful of them could easily take out every living thing on this planet." The Welshman shook his head. "Jack called them Everything Killers. I had no idea he had them, much less was keeping them right here on site, and they scared the shit out of me. But, Rhys, there are far more appalling things than those living in this locker, and the other lockers like it. There are of course radiological, biological and chemical weapons along with more _conventional_ – and I use that word with a great amount of irony – directed-energy, particle beam, phase and disruptor weapons. But there are also self-replicating programmable nano-robots that you release into the wild and which will relentlessly, perpetually destroy anything you command them to destroy; they will never, ever stop. Even more advanced than those are autonomous weapons systems which once activated become self-aware artificial intelligences. Where the nanobots are tireless and determined but basically dumb, the A.I.s are obsessed and consumed but also fantastically intelligent and capable of learning. They're _clever_…"

His face pale, Rhys took a step back from the armory cabinet, "The only thing that's missing is the cloned assassin soldiers."

"Those," Ianto responded, his face totally serious, "are stored somewhere else in the facility and according to policy shall be used only as a last resort."

Rhys shook his head disbelievingly, "All this and yet Jack… Jack carries around that old World War Two revolver?"

Ianto smiled thinly, "Yeah, this is true. Jack has a strong preference for kinetic and ballistic guns and grenades. It's sort of charming and quaint, isn't it? He and his Webley are rarely parted. Let's just say it has sentimental value for him. But don't let that apparent idiosyncratic predilection of his deceive you. The Captain acquired and stored these, um, _other_ weapons over the span of many, many years for a reason. He intends them to be used when the situation warrants it and I believe we're in such a situation at this very moment."

"So what are you proposing?"

The young Welshman nodded slowly, "What I'm proposing is we take these – or rather the ones I'm familiar with – from this locker and from the similar armories Jack has established in other parts of the complex and build up arms caches in various specially chosen and carefully hidden locations around the facility. Places only you and I will be able to get to; and in sufficient depth and breadth that we'll never be far from at least one of our caches. If and when Gray shows up, and if it happens before The Doctor and Jack arrive, I want to be ready for him… for _them_, actually, because I think the odds are quite good he'll have Gwen in tow as well."

There was a hot hardness in Ianto's eyes as he caught and held Rhys' gaze. "I want to protect Gwen – to disable her if we need to, if she's been somehow brainwashed or co-opted by him. No matter what, our first priority must be to get Gwen away from him and make her safe. But as for him, as for Gray," Ianto's steely gaze returned to the weapons locker, "I mean to destroy him. Absolutely. Permanently."

Rhys' face went even more ashen, "But Jack…"

"If Jack's here, it'll be his call, but right now he's not here, is he, and so it's my call. And I'm telling you I've had enough of Gray. He's been given not one or two but three second chances. In my own opinion, that's two too many. What do the Americans say? _Three strikes and you're out, _I believe it is? Well, on my scorecard Gray has struck out, Rhys. It's time to remove him from the game."

"Yes sir." Rhys straightened up and stood at attention; all that was missing was the snappy salute. "So we arm ourselves. Then what?"

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Well, then we're going to get a crypt ready."

"A crypt?"

"Yeah. A crypt. In the morgue. I know that Gray didn't much enjoy his last stay there, and I'm thinking if he realizes we're getting his old room ready for him then he's going to have a hard time resisting a quick trip back in order to turn down our offer of a place to stay and, incidentally, to slap us around a bit. In fact, I'm willing to bet it's really going to annoy him. So he'll come back and he'll be irritated as hell. And when he does come back, we're going to be more than ready for him."

_-00-_

"_Where there is great love, there are always miracles."  
_Willa Cather


	17. Chapter 17

**LOVE**

**SEVENTEEN**

"Teacher, John, as requested we've arrived at the source of the transmission and are now in low orbit around the planet Miri."

Wil raised an eyebrow, "Miri? Really? How odd…"

"Why odd? What is it?" John asked curiously. "I have to admit I've never heard of the place."

"On some of the star charts it is designated as Miwoc, Captain Hart," the ship responded helpfully.

John narrowed his eyes but then shook his head, "Nope, doesn't ring any bells." He gazed at Wil, "So… what's the story?"

Lifting her right hand, Wil rubbed the back of her neck and frowned. She was working really hard at trying to filter out John's thoughts from his spoken words and had an admission of her own to make, even if she was going to keep it only to herself: she was failing miserably. She needed to concentrate so intently on what he was actually saying that she was almost beyond understanding its meaning. It was like trying to listen to a faint Bach violin sonata being played a half mile away while at the same time being deluged by blaring hip-hop from the next room. It gave her a headache and, apparently… made her neck hurt. And worse, she was having a hard time thinking coherently.

"Um, well… to be honest while it's quite earthlike and populated – highly overpopulated in fact – with humanoid inhabitants, it's a dismal backwater of a planet. Extremely impoverished and rampant with all those wonderful misfortunes that accompany such abject poverty: disease, pestilence, pollution, crime, destitution, overcrowding, famine, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…"

"Sounds miserable," John scowled.

"It is."

"What would Jack and The Doctor be doing here?"

"Well, it's hard to be certain. However I do have a theory…"

"And that would be?"

"There's a scientist of some repute who has taken up residence on Miri. And when I say repute, I'm not implying some of that may not be ill-repute. He's an exceedingly odd duck who once went by the name of Iserliss, but dropped that moniker in preference of a more generic title. There have been rumors circulating about him, a few of which are so severe, so extreme, as to almost be unbelievable. No doubt there are some truths to these unpleasant stories, but it is unclear how much is simply trumped-up gossip and innuendo. Or even jealousy."

John had begun nervously pacing back and forth across a section of the control room, "What kinds of rumors?"

"Oh, gosh… well have you ever heard of a fictional character called Victor Frankenstein?"

John nodded, "There's a movie Jack always liked to watch, a comic take-off on the original fiction."

Wil couldn't help but smile, "Yeah, he inflicted… I mean he made me watch that film too. Well, anyway there are numerous stories about this guy conducting frightful experiments on the dead _and_ the living." Her smile disappeared. "There are also stories of people vanishing – going in for an appointment with him and never being seen or heard from again," she shook her head. "That's what I mean by saying the rumors are extreme. They are a bit over-the-top in the horror category for me to totally, unquestioningly believe. Still, as I said, there's often a kernel of truth to be found in such tales…"

"None of the above explains why Jack and The Doctor would want to come to this god-forsaken planet, or would want to consult with this particular individual. I don't see it, Wil."

She shrugged, "Again we can only speculate but there's little doubt that he's absolutely brilliant. We'd have to start digging in the Time Lord database to confirm it, and I'm not even sure we'd find anything substantive, but I believe he was one of the rare non-Gallifreyan physicians to see and treat Time Lords. He specializes in a lot of really high-end, bleeding-edge and frankly weird, off-the-scale stuff. The kind of stuff no one else specializes in, you know?"

John halted his pacing, blinked and shook his head, "No… I don't know."

"Right, um… things like unheard of diseases, bizarre afflictions, horrific accidents, ah… reconstructing the demolished, reanimating the dead. You name it – if it's creepy or bizarre or impossible, he's said to have his fingers in it. Miraculous things, impermissible things, unpalatable things."

He smiled cynically, "I can see why the Time Lords were interested in him…"

"Yes, the old geezers were quite creepy in and of themselves, weren't they?" she granted.

"But, Wil… that still doesn't explain why _our_ old geezer of a Time Lord or our handsome, dashing and ageless Captain would want anything to do with him. What did you say his name was again?"

"Iserliss. But lately he's simply been known as the doctor."

"Oh… that's just great," John rolled his eyes.

She shrugged, "Par for the course."

"You know," he speculated. "I've always believed our Doctor likes to stir things up, go looking for trouble. He's a man who clearly does not like to be bored. Might be what's going on here…"

"And you're saying Jack is different?"

He glared at her, "That's exactly what I'm saying. Maybe when I first knew him, when we were at the Time Agency together, Jack would willingly jump feet first into places where angels feared to tread. And yeah, he'd sometimes purposefully go looking for trouble. But now? With his precious Time Lord in tow?"

The wave of intense jealousy unexpectedly hit Wil like a tsunami. Jealousy that came gushing forth copiously from John Hart's mind and which was clearly rooted in Jack's relationship with The Doctor. She wanted to, nearly did blurt out, "I had no idea!" but realized with a sudden earthshaking jolt that she was likely to spend the rest of her life saying those four words – or some variation thereof – over and over again; they would become her eternal epitaph. This was something that by all rights she shouldn't know: how John truly felt about Jack and The Doctor. In fact it was something she really didn't want to know.

But the cat was out of the bag and so she chose to ignore it, although a shadow of vague unease remained behind.

"Grasshopper, is The Doctor's TARDIS on the surface of the planet?"

"Yes, Teacher."

John resumed his anxious back and forth patrol.

"Take us down there in stealth mode and prepare to transport us aboard please, Grasshopper."

"Affirmative, Teacher."

It only took a few seconds.

"You may beam over when ready, Teacher, but there is one thing I must tell you."

"What's that?" John asked sharply as he halted in mid-step.

"There is only one individual currently occupying The Doctor's ship."

"Of course there is," he sighed.

"Yes, and it is The Doctor."

That was not at all what John was expecting, "Huh?"

"Correct."

"Where is Jack?" Wil asked, her face darkening.

"I do not know. The Doctor is in possession of the Captain's vortex manipulator and he requests your immediate presence."

John quickly moved to Wil and took her hand in his before giving the order, "Then send us over, Grasshopper."

_-00-_

_"Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end."  
_Germaine De Stael


	18. Chapter 18

**LOVE**

**EIGHTEEN**

Jack opened his eyes only to see Iserliss – for some reason he couldn't bear to think of the monster as the doctor, or even _a_ doctor – standing above him.

"How do you feel Captain Harkness?" There were no breath sounds accompanying the measured, toneless words. _Creepy. Really creepy._

Jack's voice cracked as he lied, "Fine."

That's when he realized he couldn't move his head. He tried to reach up with his hands to investigate but they were immotile as well. _Damn, this sucks._

In fact it seemed he pretty much was totally unable to move – that is except for his eyes. Where before he had been only lightly restrained, now he was totally immobilized. Jack glanced around and concluded he'd been put in a different room. The room he now occupied was larger; it had a lot more stuff in it – medical looking stuff but also equipment that frankly appeared to belong more properly in a physics lab. Had he actually been transferred to a different location? It was hard to tell. But he suspected that was probably the case. Eventually _his_ beloved Doctor would come back looking for him, if he hadn't already, and it was unlikely Iserliss would willingly tolerate such an encounter.

"Ah, you have no doubt realized you've been more firmly secured. It's for your own good, really, my dear Captain Harkness." Iserliss reached out and put a hand on Jack's bare chest; his touch was ice cold and not in the least bit comforting. Jack felt a wintry shiver move up and down his spine. "You see, the last time you were, uh, dead… and isn't that just the most amazing thing to say? I took the liberty of performing a small procedure on you. It was done without your consent, I realize, but all in the name of science, for the good of our research, to be sure. I used a procedure that you no doubt know of as a brain biopsy, and to be more precise an incisional biopsy, to remove a small piece of your brain tissue – a tiny bit of your gray matter – so that I might further investigate this amazing ability of yours to revive. I was very careful not to overly endanger any of your cognitive or basic functions – even though I suspect such a mishap would have been repaired in the rejuvenation process.

"What I discovered in my examination is fascinating, Captain. Now… we must take into account that the sample I extracted was of your _deceased_ brain, pre-rejuvenation, and for this reason it was less optimal than the removal of tissue from a living subject. Nonetheless, what I saw in my transmission electron microscope, and which was confirmed by subsequent chemical analysis, is quite unusual, to say the least. Your brain is atypical, Captain Harkness, and I wonder if you know of any good reason for this to be the case?"

Although he felt like shit and was increasingly put off by Iserliss' monotone cadence, the Captain managed a devilish grin, "Well… I'm an atypical kind of guy, aren't I?"

"That you are. But if you have no other explanation for the abnormalities I'm finding in your brain physiology, then it is logical to presume they may have something to do with your amazing propensity to not stay dead. Do you not agree, Captain Harkness?"

Despite the situation Jack couldn't help but be interested. Yet he felt a need for caution and suspected it would not be wise to display too much overt curiosity. So he dissembled creatively. "I don't know; I'm not a scientist. I've been in a lot of strange places, been exposed to a lot of unpleasant juju. Any abnormalities you find might be related to something irrelevant which happened to me in the past. Like an old scar that never healed, or a bone break that malunioned. I could unknowingly be carrying around all kinds of weird crap inside of me which I picked up on any one of the thousands of planets I've visited during my life, or that I caught from any one of the thousands of people I've had, um, relations with. I could've gotten infected with something and no one would've known. It's not like I spend a lot of time in doctors' offices." _And now I know why…_

The hand on his chest shifted, became ever so slightly heavier. "But have you any reason to suspect your brain physiology would be anomalous?"

Jack tried to shake his head and found that he couldn't. The situation was starting to get on his nerves, big-time. "Like I said. I don't know. Maybe. Can you be more specific?"

"Oh you are clever aren't you? But I'm not quite ready yet to disclose even to you what I'm just now beginning to learn. It isn't wise to reveal too early the results of one's research, you know, and besides, things are by no means conclusive. There is more work to be done."

Iserliss walked away from Jack, disappeared from the Captain's limited field of vision, but continued to talk nonetheless. "What I _can_ tell you is that my findings are potentially groundbreaking. A world-shattering discovery. And without a doubt career-changing. I am not ashamed to tell you that I have not been respected in my profession. It may come as a surprise, but I have been ostracized for my work. The Time Lords appreciated me, but since they disappeared I've been made an intergalactic pariah. But now… now I have a feeling that is all about to change. All thanks to you, my dear Captain Harkness. The secrets of immortality will be revealed. Perhaps made available – for a significant price, of course – to others who wish to live forever. But as I said… we have much more work to do first."

Jack was liking the sound of this less and less.

"Yes, I will need to confirm the results of my initial analysis. That will take some time. And then we will have to do trials. Every step must be meticulously conducted and documented. We mustn't let this opportunity go awry." Iserliss soundlessly came back into view; he was holding what Jack could only presume was some sort of medical device. It looked like a small rotary tool with a tiny circular saw on one end. "We have no time to waste and yet everything must be done with the utmost precision, care and caution. There is no room for mistakes. Our next order of business is another biopsy, but this time it must be done while you are alive and conscious, Captain. It's the only way. I must obtain more of your gray matter but I also need some of your more deeply embedded white matter tissue as well. I have no doubt it is going to be painful – excruciatingly painful – but unfortunately there's nothing for it. I am quite confident you'll survive, however there is some question if your mind will remain viable or not. But don't worry; I will take care of you, no matter what.

"My dear Captain Harkness, I'm sure you agree we might as well get the procedure over with, yes? Afterward I'll make sure you get some rest."

The tiny little saw began to sing.

_-00-_

_"Take away love, and our earth is a tomb."  
_Robert Browning


	19. Chapter 19

**LOVE**

**NINETEEN**

"Wil! John! Hello!"

The Doctor gazed up at them cheerfully from the floor of his ship's control room. He was sitting cross-legged with a neatly folded stack of clothing piled on his lap and what looked like a mobile phone clutched in one of his hands.

A small black and white Earth feline sat next to him, studiously ignoring what appeared to be several plates of food. The cat looked up at the new arrivals with bright green eyes.

"Spike!" John exclaimed. "How are you? Come here you pretty kitty!" He leaned over, extended a hand and snapped his fingers. The cat stood and silently padded over to him. After a brisk scratch behind the ears John scooped him up in his arms and gave him a quick kiss. Spike purred loudly in response.

Wil had already recognized (it was difficult not to!) the aforementioned pile of clothing as belonging to Jack Harkness and noted warily that said pile included the Captain's precious greatcoat. "Hey, Doctor. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Wil. Just fine. And you?"

"I'm good. John's good. We're both good. A little busy these days but that's nothing new…"

"No, I suppose not..."

She walked over to him and looked down expectantly, "You rang?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. And thank you – the both of you – for coming so promptly." He looked up at her and smiled. "Uh, do you mind?" he slowly raised the precariously balanced stack of clothing up toward her.

"No, not at all," she accepted the apparel from him and then watched as he unwound off the floor to his full height.

Wil inhaled deeply and caught the strong, spicy scent of Captain Jack Harkness from the items she now clutched tightly to her chest. The almost overpowering aroma and its accompanying memories made her knees go weak and her face feel flush. She looked down, hoping neither man had seen her reaction but knowing full-well that both probably had. It would've been hard to miss…

"Do you want to tell us what's going on, Doctor?" John asked as he carefully placed Spike back down on the floor and gave the cat one last affectionate pat.

"Well… several things, John. Erm, John _and_ Wil… I guess the first one is that I've lost Jack."

John's eyes had been following Spike as he unhurriedly meandered over to the food plates and began daintily to eat from one of them. Now the former Time Agent peered icily back up at the Time Lord. "You've _lost_ Jack?"

"I left him at a medical clinic…"

"Iserliss?" Wil interrupted him.

"Ah! Yes! Iserliss! You know of the man then?"

Wil and John both nodded.

"Very good… Right! I left Jack with Iserliss, or the doctor as he now prefers to be known. Ha!" he chortled. "A bit funny don't you think? Well… anyway, when, as instructed, I returned an hour later Jack was gone. So were the doctor and his assistant, incidentally. And the facility…" Here The Doctor's face suddenly turned dark, foreboding. "Well, I found Jack's clothes but not Jack, and there was evidence of recent violence. And worse. Much worse…"

Wil pressed the clothing more tightly to her body as her heart sank, "What did you see, Doctor?"

He just blinked at her.

"Doctor? I asked: what did you see?"

"I saw death. Jack's death. Repeated deaths. Horrible deaths."

Under his breath, John let out a stream of expletives.

Wil realized although she could plainly hear what The Doctor was thinking, that unlike John there was absolutely no ambivalence. The Time Lord's words and thoughts were clear, cold and lucid, and totally in sync with each other. She had to admit, the forthrightness was refreshing – a distinct relief. Like walking out from a stuffy, overheated room into the refreshing drizzle of a cool, gray morning.

"Then we'll go and find him," she announced straightforwardly.

The Doctor nodded several times but then he shook his head.

"Several things?" John interjected.

Wil looked at him, annoyed, and he glared back at her just as irritated. "The Doctor told us that there were _several things_ going on," John scowled, "what are the other things, Doctor?"

The Time Lord glanced around and then realized what he was seeking was already in his hand. He held the object up in the air so they could see it plainly. "This is the cell phone Martha Jones gave me. While I was dropping Jack off at the clinic she tried to call us. I'd forgotten to take the phone with me – well, I always forget to take the phone with me." He frowned and then shrugged. "It's kind of intentional actually. I detest cell phones, brain cancer you know… But anyway Martha called and left a message. Jack and I have been asked by Ianto Jones to return to Cardiff posthaste. It seems that Gray has escaped."

"WHAT?" Wil nearly roared.

John shook his head and said much more quietly, "When it rains it pours."

The Doctor gazed at him thoughtfully and nodded. "Ah! One of the Captain's favorite maxims. And yes, indeed, it appears to be pouring."

"But how…?" Wil was having a hard time coping with the news. It was the last thing she wanted to hear – that Jack's psychopathic little brother was once again on the loose.

"Gwen Cooper is missing as well. They believe Gray might've somehow manipulated her into freeing him."

"Poor Gwen!" Wil lamented.

"Yes. I'm quite concerned for her," was The Doctor's worried response.

"Is there anything else?" John asked matter-of-factly.

Wil turned to stare at him, "What do you mean? Things aren't dismal enough? Are you hoping for even more bad news?"

His eyes flashed. "No, I'm not. But I do want to make sure there's nothing else that requires our attention, M'Lady."

The Doctor looked back and forth between the two of them, suddenly realizing there actually _was_ another issue, but it was one he'd been totally unaware of until that very moment. He conspicuously cleared his throat. "No, John, there's nothing else. Just those two… or is it three items on our action list: rescue Jack, find Gray, rescue Gwen. I'm not sure if the last two are separate line items or not… But they probably aren't – aren't separate that is; let's call them the same." The Time Lord vowed to himself to not blunder into the middle of a relationship obviously heading for the rocks. _I'll have to dust off my old 'I don't want to take sides' speech…_

John thought for a moment then grinned beakishly, as if claiming ownership of a particularly juicy piece of roadkill. "Seems to me we're going to need to split up."

"Oh no, not again," Wil moaned.

But The Doctor nodded in agreement. "It only makes sense. Both situations need to be dealt with immediately. The question is which one do the two of you prefer to tackle?"

"That's not what I'm thinking, Doctor…"

Then to John Hart's profound surprise, Wil stepped forward both literally and figuratively, "I know what John's thinking and he's absolutely right. He should go with you to Cardiff. It makes perfect sense because he's had quite a bit of experience dealing with Jack's brother in the past. Besides, Doctor, you can't go there alone. We won't let you. All of us know only all too well what Gray is capable of. He may be unbalanced but he's also _crazy_ dangerous. You're going to need help and John's the only one who fits the bill. The Torchwood Team is good, but they're totally outclassed by Gray. He'll eat them for breakfast."

"But… but… By yourself, Wil?" the Time Lord sputtered.

"No, she's got it right, Doctor," John picked up the argument and administered the _coup de grâce_. "Besides, Wil won't be alone; she'll have Grasshopper with her."

The two of them smiled at each other and as they did The Doctor noticed that in neither case did their smile reach their eyes.

_-00-_

"_There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."  
_Friedrich Nietzsche


	20. Chapter 20

**LOVE**

**TWENTY**

"Captain Harkness… Captain Harkness… Wake up."

Jack slowly segued into wakefulness. He opened his eyes and tried to look around, but he seemed to have problems focusing. He pressed his eyelids together tightly and pictured his hand… ordered his hand to rise up to them and rub.

But nothing happened.

"Captain Harkness, look at me please."

Once again and with some reluctance and tremendous effort Jack opened his eyes. He couldn't deny things were not right. Not only was his vision fuzzy, but his entire body felt fuzzy, and his mind was fuzzy, too. He couldn't remember anything, couldn't grasp where he was, what he was doing. He couldn't grasp the position of his body. Or where his body was in three-dimensional space. He could barely grasp _who_ he was…

And who was that speaking to him?

He looked around, noticed a sort of large, gray man-like shape moving in front of him.

"Very good, Captain Harkness. Do you recognize me? Can you see who I am? I'm the doctor, Captain Harkness…"

Jack tried to nod his head. But wait! Doctor? The Doctor? No… that was wrong. That wasn't The Doctor. The voice was all wrong. The outline, the shape… were also wrong. Jack tried to speak; he couldn't feel his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. He gasped a ragged breath, could hardly feel the air enter his body, his lungs.

"Captain Harkness, please, you must try to relax. Listen to me; listen to the sound of my voice. Concentrate on what I am saying, Captain Harkness. Hear my words. During the procedure I was performing on you – do you remember? Do you remember talking about it? Discussing it? The brain biopsy? How important it is? During the procedure there was a problem. You had a stroke, Captain Harkness. A brain hemorrhage. But you are very strong, you survived."

Something suddenly changed. Something moved. Then Jack realized it was _he_ who moved – he seemed to be sitting up in some sort of portable device, a sort of high-tech wheelchair, perhaps. It was the only logical explanation for the strange sense of motion and the doctor… no… not The Doctor he remembered… there was another name… there was some other name he couldn't quite recall. But this man… this man who wasn't _his_ Doctor was shifting him around. A stark wave of nausea came and went and then came again, stronger still.

"The average thirty-day survival figures for subarachnoid hemorrhage are around six-tenths, Captain. But I already am quite certain you are going to beat those odds. You are recovering very quickly… It's quite impressive actually. I believe you've already come through the main danger period, but your chances of full recovery… well, they are still in question. However, I am very hopeful for you. I am more optimistic than I was even an hour ago, my dear Captain. Here, look at this…"

Jack blinked several times and noticed his vision was beginning to clear. His chair had been rolled in front of a gigantic tube monitor. The man… no the _monster_ – Jack suddenly remembered the monster's name was Iserliss – the monster was messing with something that looked like the bastard offspring of a computer mouse and a joystick. Jack was having a hard time making out what he was supposed to look at on the display. It was in shades of gray, somehow messy and biological looking.

"Captain, you are currently paralyzed on your left side, and your speech is impaired. It has been difficult to evaluate your mental functioning, but I believe you are already recovering many of your faculties." Jack watched as the form of Iserliss turned briefly to peer at him before turning back again to the enormous screen. "I believe you will get your full mobility back, but only time will tell. We will need to be patient.

"But I'm certain what you're really interested in is what I'm learning. Is that not so? And I believe I can now start sharing with you some extraordinary data, data which show how absolutely remarkable you truly are." The image on the monitor vanished, to be replaced by different one. It sort of looked like blobs with tangled fibers converging on them. "This is an M-type gangliocyte that I took from the white matter deep within your brain. As you can see, it has lots of dendrites going into it. Everything seems pretty normal, pretty typical, until we look inside of it."

The picture changed again. There were lots of weird loops and whorls, and something else Jack couldn't begin to make out. Something that didn't look organic.

"Cytology, my dear Captain. Cytology is everything. These unusual, disturbing-looking structures are in every central nervous system tissue sample I've retrieved from you. They are also in your peripheral tissues, albeit in smaller quantities. Screening isolated some extremely strange DNA sequences in these structures and very large fullerene macromolecules doped with traces of heavy elements such as iridium and thorium…"

While the monotonous voice droned on and on Jack began to feel increasingly sick, dizzy, as words like "buckeyballs" and "carbon-sixty molecules" and "inner lipid walls" and "quantum dots" made brief, perplexing appearances in the monster's endless soliloquy. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate and follow what was being said but the Captain forced himself to remain conscious even though he knew, eventually, it would be a losing battle. He redoubled his efforts.

"Your cells are full of repurposed mitochondria. In other words, your mitrochondrial DNA has been edited, Captain Harkness – over two hundred enzymes no one has ever seen before have been added. They are artificial – but they are as far beyond nanotechnology as astrophysics is beyond astrology. This is outside of any technology anyone has ever dreamt of, much less seen in this galaxy, in this universe.

"I've been able to construct tissue cultures using cells I've harvested from your brain matter, and I've been able to keep those cells alive _in vitro_ and perform various tests on them. What I'm finding is evidence of extremely advanced bioengineering on a microcellular level. I'm finding artificial organelles that are hyper-complex. And mechanosomes which combine with quantized charge units created by those unique enzymes of yours that, as near as I can tell Captain Harkness, won't ever let you die. Yes, the key to immortality, my dear Captain, is in your DNA. Your mitrochondrial DNA."

Once again Iserliss, his eyes eerily incandescent, turned his head and looked at Jack. "Oh, we've only just started our journey together, and I'm going to need you healthy so I can obtain more samples. Unfortunately the extracted cells don't last very long once you start working with them – they die after about thirty minutes – and…" he reached out and rolled the wheelchair slightly to Jack's right, in order to give the Captain a better view of what was behind the monitor and off to the physician's left. Iserliss pivoted around and looked along with him. "Unfortunately our first test subject did not survive my initial attempt to introduce your genes directly by inserting them into her cells and tissues via a retrovirus. Granted it was a long shot, but it was worth trying."

Jack blinked and was able to make out the shape of a body laid out on a hospital bed.

"Yes, Vatia will be missed, but science, you know, science must always come first…"

It felt like a curtain was coming down over Jack's vision. He tried to speak, but only managed to gurgle.

Iserliss turned back to face him, "Unfortunately my dear Captain I am not able to understand you, but if I were to guess, I believe what you might be wondering is whether or not you are human. It's certainly what I would ask if I were in your place; if I were confronted by such knowledge. And it is a most excellent question, Captain Harkness. Are you still human or are you something else? I cannot begin to say, but again I believe that time will tell… Your secrets will most assuredly be revealed."

_No you're wrong_, Jack thought as the world around him went slowly, quietly black. _That's not even close to I wanted to say._ _But let me tell you this – if there's someone in this room who isn't human, I promise you it's not me…_

_-00-_

_"Kiss me and you will see stars; love me and I will give them to you."  
_Unknown


	21. Chapter 21

**LOVE**

**TWENTYONE**

As was their custom John was unbuckling his wristband to give to Wil when The Doctor interrupted the rite. "Wait," he said as he pulled out Jack's worn leather strap from his coat pocket, "I think Wil should take this instead."

She watched the Time Lord's face as he glanced down at Jack's most prized possession and saw, and more to the point felt and heard, the intense emotions that were there behind the soulful yet usually unrevealing brown eyes. _Ah_, she thought, _it is not unrequited. Not only does the Captain love the man from Gallifrey, but the man from Gallifrey loves the Captain. _She let her eyes travel to the precious object that for the both of them epitomized Jack Harkness.

_Correct_, she heard The Doctor's soundless words, as clearly as if he were speaking them. _That is my secret and now it is ours. I trust you to keep it close._

She glanced up, saw him staring at her. _Yes I know what has happened to you, Wil. And no, I do not know why or how to fix it. Or even if it can be fixed._

The exchange happened in an eyeblink. Wil nodded as she solemnly accepted the wristband from The Doctor, her fingertips lightly brushing his hand. _How do you know what I'm thinking?_

_I don't know what you're thinking_ was his response, but in reality a non-response. _I cannot hear your thoughts. I'm only guessing, with a dash of innate telepathic ability thrown in. Yet I do know you can hear what I'm thinking._ He almost imperceptibly winked at her.

"I can keep a secret," she said out loud, albeit quietly, and smiled as she plunged the wristband deep into one of her pockets.

John Hart had, of course, noticed the unspoken interaction. Little if anything ever got by him, especially if it involved a lover. Or an enemy. Although he could speculate, he had no idea what was being communicated. He repressed something that felt like jealousy, and the sensation wasn't all together unpleasant. He still loved Wil and wanted her; that would never change. The thought of his inamorata having a secret conversation with another man – even though that other man was only the Gallifreyan and of no serious threat to their relationship – right in front of him was… well… it was erotic. He met her gaze and held it, "I love you," he said quietly. "Be careful…"

He extended his arms, took both her hands in his and looked deep into her eyes, "…M'Lady."

She nodded, "I love you, too. I'll come find you after I find Jack."

He grinned wolfishly, "How do you know you'll be first?"

"First out of the gate," she shrugged as she released his double grip and took a step back.

"Excuse me…" The Doctor interrupted, "this isn't a competition."

"It isn't?" John scoffed. "You could've fooled me."

Wil held up her hand in the Vulcan salute. "Peace and long life," she said.

John returned the gesture, "Live long and prosper." But her form was already shimmering and within a second or two she was gone.

The Doctor looked at John and raised an eyebrow, "I was going to ask you if there is trouble in paradise, but now after watching that, I'm not so sure…"

John laughed, his eyes dancing. But then he held up an index finger to his lips as he quickly surveyed the room. Locating what he was seeking, he walked over to Spike, who was busy doing some face cleaning after his meal, and once again scooped up the cat in his arms and kissed him affectionately on the top of his head.

"Wil and I sometimes fight like cats and dogs, Doctor. In my experience that's what people in love do, when they're… uh… not busy doing other things. Perhaps you've forgotten, or perhaps it's just been awhile since you were really, truly in love. It shouldn't surprise you to learn our arguments can get quite feverish, but that doesn't mean we don't love and care about each other.

"And you know…" John's eyes narrowed. "The fact that you live with Captain Jack Harkness makes me think that you are more than familiar with what I'm talking about. Wil enjoys the odd heated altercation, and it usually ends in fantastic makeup sex, but Jack… well Jack gets off on full-blown outright one-on-one warfare. Surely you've…"

The Doctor held up a hand. "All right, that's enough John. That's more than enough sharing, thank you very much. I was prepared to stalwartly not get drawn into the middle of your relationship with Wil; I am certainly not prepared to allow you into the middle of my relationship with Jack."

John's face took on the appearance of emphatic triumph, "Ah ha! So it _is_ a relationship!"

The Time Lord's face suddenly went solemn, "Not in the way perhaps you'd understand the word."

"Oh don't be so sure," John's expression changed to match The Doctor's. "But yes, Wil and I are having problems dealing with whatever it is that has happened to her. I already know you're aware of it. I saw the look of realization cross your face when the truth of it hit you. And as you can imagine, it is not a simple thing to cope with, having your most private thoughts revealed. Nor is being on the other side of the equation an easy matter. She knew I needed a time out, I guess I wasn't quite aware of how badly she needed one, too."

"Yes, I can imagine it isn't simple," The Doctor sighed. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"But there isn't?"

"No, not that I am aware of. I have, however, heard of a certain physician on a planet called Miri…" This statement was accompanied by a crooked and slightly fiendish smile.

"Right… well… I think we'll pass on him," John shivered exaggeratedly. "Sounds to me like that would be a case of the cure being far worse than the disease."

The Time Lord clicked his tongue, "Undoubtedly."

"Well, Doctor, although I'd like to know what in the hell you and Jack were doing on this god-forsaken world, we have more important things to attend to and I think it's time to make our plans," John gave Spike one last kiss and put him back on the floor. The cat sauntered off, the two men watching for a few moments in silence as he departed the control room.

"Quite right, John!" The Doctor was suddenly animated, almost sparkling with energy. "And along those same lines I do happen to have a couple of ideas. Let me tell you about them…"

_-00-_

"_And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."  
_Khalil Gibran


	22. Chapter 22

**LOVE**

**TWENTYTWO**

Despite the "first out of the gate" gibberish, Wil materialized only a few yards away from The Doctor's TARDIS.

She walked another hundred feet or so and then plopped herself down in some dappled shade under what appeared to stand for a tree thereabouts, and meditated on the old blue police box.

She began by remembering the first time she'd ever seen it. Back as a freshly minted employee of Torchwood Three, being taken out on her first assignment by her new boss, the dashing and sinister Captain Jack Harkness. Wil smiled to herself. Although it felt like ages ago, she could still remember being excited and scared, both at the same time. Jack had done his best to impress and intimidate her, and in that he had succeeded magnificently. Just as he seemed to succeed magnificently in everything he did.

"What do you want with me?" she had asked him as they'd walked from the Hub.

"I want you to meet two people," had been his inscrutable response.

And what an amazing "two people" they were – Rose Tyler and The Doctor – the both of them standing nonchalantly outside of an odd-looking blue box. All browns and pinks and blues and yellows. Sparkling eyes and big smiles. What a pair they made. Wil chuckled softly and then shook her head. _The things you have seen_, she said silently to The Doctor's ship. _The people you have met. The places you have been._

"Be careful," she breathed to the ship's current occupants.

It didn't take long – not long at all before The Doctor's police box noisily melted away, leaving only a vague reminder: a squarish impression in the dry, brown grass.

"Right," she said, pulling out Jack's leather wristband from a pocket and buckling it around her right arm. Unlike John's, it didn't have a slot that actually allowed it to fit her properly – it hung loosely on her wrist, falling over the heel of her thumb. Jack had always claimed his was bigger than John's, and now she supposed she could confirm it in the metaphorical sense.

_John…_ she already missed him. And could do nothing but admit she had doubts about splitting up from him. What did he always say to her? As long as they were together everything was going to be all right. In fact recent experience had shown that he was pretty much right on the mark there.

Then why had she felt so sure this was the correct thing to do?

"Teacher?"

"Yes, Grasshopper?"

"Would you like me to transport you to the Captain's last known location?"

"No, Grasshopper."

"But Teacher…?"

"Do not worry my wonderful student. I am indeed going after Jack. It's just that if it's okay with you I feel like going under my own power." She stood and stretched, and then proceeded to do some warm-up exercises. "How far is the town, Grasshopper?"

"It is about seven kilometers from your present position, Teacher. Due west-south-west from here."

"Excellent. I'm feeling like I need a little exercise. Neither John nor Jack think of running as anything but an activity to do when you're in a hurry to get away from something, or in a hurry to catch up with something."

"This is true, Teacher. Along with The Doctor they seem to get their exercise entirely during their day jobs."

Wil laughed out loud. "That's funny and nothing but the truth. Well… I'm feeling like going for a run simply for running's sake, Grasshopper. Not only will it be good to get in a workout, but maybe it will help me to clear out my head a little as well. Did you say west-south-west?"

"Affirmative, Teacher. If you begin running in the direction in which you are currently facing I have no doubt that you'll run, um pun intended, right into Ascolan, which is the name of the city that is your ultimate destination. Incidentally I would categorize it as larger than a town, smaller than a metropolitan…"

"That's quite enough Grasshopper. Let's not spoil the surprise, hmm?" Wil began to slowly jog and promptly found her rhythm.

"Teacher?"

"Yes Grasshopper?"

"May I ask, are you all right?"

"Yes, you may ask, Grasshopper. And yes, I'm quite all right. It feels good to be alone with you again, my student. Lately life has been… oh, I don't know… difficult."

"I'm sorry, Teacher."

"Oh! Don't be. I'm not!"

"But John, Teacher…"

"We are being tested, Grasshopper. I think as humans we are almost always being tested in some way or another. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why we are alive, to be tested and to prove our worthiness."

"Worthiness for what?"

Wil was increasing her speed, her long strides coming smoothly, effortlessly. "Now that is a very good question and one I'm not exactly sure how to answer. If I figure it out, you'll certainly be one of the first to know."

"Yes, Teacher. Thank you. Teacher?"

"Yes, Grasshopper?"

"I hope you are not angry with me but I was able to discuss your condition with The Doctor's ship."

"Oh?"

"There seem to be a few similar incidents reported in the Time Lord Database. They are very rare and…"

"Grasshopper?"

"Yes Teacher?"

"Is this good news or bad news?"

"I'm not entirely certain, Teacher."

"Well then," Wil's respiration rate was now increasing along with her pace, "let's leave that particular discussion for later, hmm?"

"I don't understand."

"I have other things on my mind. I really don't want to get all self-obsessed right now. Does that make sense?"

"Of course Teacher."

"Really?"

"No, Teacher."

"Good. I don't want you thinking you can always figure me out."

Wil heard the city long before she saw it. Well… she heard the thoughts of its people. She stumbled and nearly fell when she realized what the tumultuous cacophony crashing over her was; her strides became uneven as the incessant noise grew louder and louder. Finally as she drew near to the outskirts of Ascolan she stopped, "Grasshopper?"

"Yes, Teacher?"

"Is there anything you can do to help me filter out this pandemonium?"

"I fear not, Teacher. I would be afraid of causing you damage on top of the concussion you previously sustained. It would not be wise.

"But may I make a suggestion?"

"Of course, Grasshopper."

"Perhaps you should think of music. I know you have the ability to play entire symphonies, every note for every instrument, from start to finish, in your mind. I suggest you do so now. Let the music take you, Teacher. Focus on it instead of the voices."

"Right," Wil resumed walking and at the same time began performing the opening theme of the first movement of Beethoven's thundering Ninth Symphony in her head. "Where are we going?" she asked a minute or so later, thanks to the music already feeling a bit more centered and once again ramping up her speed to a brisk jog.

"The clinic is not far away, but you must head directly into the city's center. It will be packed with people."

"That's all right. Let's get on with it."

She'd not even made it through the symphony's third movement when she saw the crescent-shaped green and white medical facility sign ahead of her. _Ironic,_ she thought, _such an emblem would normally bring great comfort and instill decided relief, but there is no comfort here. No relief. _

As she approached the building she called an end to the music, put down her imaginary baton, and fully opened her mind to a chaotic world of soundless voices. There was a large crowd milling about the storefront. As Wil looked at their faces she tried to concentrate on several of the louder, more pronounced threads of thought. A few individuals were anxiously waiting to see the physician, but they were unhappy – the clinic did not appear to be open as it ought to have been. But many more of them – the vast majority – were angry, scared, upset. They were desperately searching for loved ones who'd gone missing, who'd last been seen at or near the facility. Or who had spoken of visiting it.

She stopped and attempted to speak to a few of the people. At first they were curious about her, and intrigued by her unusual height, apparel, and hair color – but then when they realized she was looking for information they became agitated, even hostile – and adamantly refused to answer any further questions. The more she tried to explain herself, the more antagonistic they became. The acute violence simmering just below the surface of the crowd disturbed her.

But their abrupt reticence came too late. She'd already heard what some had thought when she initially inquired into the whereabouts of the clinic's physician. They'd inadvertently let the cat out of the bag – the knowledge slip before rancor had taken hold of their feelings and silenced their words. There was another, much older clinic in a different, even uglier, more congested part of the city. The tottering building was thought to be no longer used – it was empty, derelict, and abandoned. She saw it in their minds' eyes, and thus in her own mind's eye, and suddenly, unequivocally, she knew _exactly_ where Jack was. And _exactly_ where she needed to go… and needed to go quickly.

Wil took a couple of steps backward, away from the increasingly vitriolic crowd and if there were a few individuals not yet suspicious of her that was instantly remedied when she shimmered for a few seconds, then vanished into thin air in front of their very eyes.

_-00-_

_"In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities."  
_Janos Arnay


	23. Chapter 23

**LOVE**

**TWENTYTHREE**

"Hello Ianto Jones, no relation to Harriet or Martha or Mickey! Hello Rhys Williams!"

The Doctor came barreling out of his TARDIS into the center of the Hub, his coat flapping madly around his legs.

"Hello Doctor," Ianto responded, "hello Ja…" He stopped in mid-sentence – in mid-word – as the expected second person to walk out through the open doors of the blue police box wasn't the person he'd been expecting. Ianto Jones was definitely not in the mood for surprises.

"John. The name is John. And hello, Ianto. Nice to see you again. How are you doing?" John smiled slyly, knowing full well that the young Welshman had once harbored hopes of being a companion to The Doctor and likely did not relish the sight of John Hart casually egressing the Time Lord's ship.

"John?" Ianto narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh! I'm being remiss!" The Doctor chimed. "John… please allow me introduce you to Rhys… Rhys Williams! Rhys, this is Captain John Hart a close friend and associate of Jack's." The Gallifreyan happily babbled away, totally ignoring Ianto's very unhappy – dare we say allergic? – reaction.

Rhys stepped forward and shook John's extended hand. He couldn't help but notice the worn leather strap around the man's right wrist. "I've heard a lot about you, Captain Hart, I'm Gwen's husband."

"Oh, you are? Well that's nice. Very nice indeed. Call me John, please! I'm glad to meet you!" the former Time Agent proclaimed, giving it his best smile.

"Yes it is – it's very nice to be Gwen's husband." Rhys glowered more than grinned.

There was an ominous silence while the four men sized each other up. To be sure there was more than one alpha male present in the room. Who would come out on top was anybody's guess.

Or was there really no contest?

"Doctor, where's Jack?" Ianto had recovered enough from the shock to be worried. And as it turned out, rightly so…

"Jack's gone missing," the Time Lord's countenance was suddenly somber. "Wil has ventured out to try to rescue – uh, I mean to find him and bring him home."

The young Welshman's face took on a rather unique shade of red, "But Doctor! Gray is on the loose! As you're obviously aware of since you've returned to Cardiff – you got the phone message from Martha, right?"

"What? Yes, of course! Yes, I received Martha's message, Ianto. And you're right; it's why we – both John and I – are here in Cardiff."

"B-But what if Gray has Jack, too? You mean to tell me you've sent Wil out alone to face that man? That insane monster? On her own?"

As Ianto's voice grew louder, The Doctor's grew softer – but its tone made it no less commanding. "Ianto, calm down please. If there's anything I'm certain of at this moment it's that Jack is not with Gray… Well, at least I think I'm certain." The Doctor glanced sidelong, briefly meeting John's gaze and the latter nodded almost imperceptibly; the Time Lord shot him a quick smile and continued. "Yes, quite certain! I can honestly tell you that Jack currently is in the middle of a whole different pile of trouble which has absolutely nothing to do with his brother…"

Ianto's red face started to go purple and John rolled his eyes before stepping into the fray, "Look Ianto, The Doctor and I came here as quickly as we could. Wil can take care of herself and she can take care of Jack, too. She's got Grasshopper with her and you know that ship is smarter and probably more dangerous than the four of us combined…"

"Smarter? Speak for yourself!" The Doctor whispered _sotto voce_. John ignored him and carried on.

"So let's give Wil the benefit of the doubt, shall we, and get on with the business at hand? Would one of you want to kindly tell The Doctor and me exactly what went on here?"

"My wife didn't come home last night!" Rhys blurted out a bit too loudly.

John couldn't help it – nastiness was too deeply engrained into his psyche, and the statement was just too damn funny. His grin was fiendish, "You called in The Doctor because you've been cuckolded?"

Rhys growled.

Thankfully, especially considering Rhys was armed with several extremely lethal weapons, Ianto Jones' better angels took over. "In this case a picture is worth a thousand words," he said calmly as he reached for a nearby remote; suddenly all the big flat screen monitors in the Hub's control center crackled and flashed to life. "This is what happened just before 11p.m. last night. Observe."

The four men watched in silence as Gwen stood up from her desk, opened the secure storage locker's door and crouched down as if to inspect one of the compartments. When the video went dark John asked: "Hey, what happened?"

Ianto nodded, "Exactly! That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question. We don't know. But I have my suspicions." He turned to the Time Lord. "Did Jack happen to tell you what he did with this brother, Doctor?"

The Doctor plunged his hands deep into his coat pockets, "Erm… no. No he didn't. But then I never specifically asked."

John inhaled loudly through his nose and glared at the Time Lord critically, "You never specifically asked? Didn't you wonder?"

The Time Lord's eyes flashed, "Of course I wondered. But you know how Jack can be. He didn't want to talk about what he didn't want to talk about, and that included what he ended up doing with his brother. Nor did he want to talk about his feelings or his hopes or his fears for his brother. It's not that I didn't try! But that man is like a brick wall. I'm sorry but I don't know any more than the rest of you, which is that the Captain decided to spare Gray's life once again, despite getting plenty of advice to the contrary."

Thus having been put on the defensive and not liking it very much whatsoever, The Doctor took the offensive: "What makes you think, Ianto, that Gwen's actions and the loss of the video feed have something to do with Gray?"

Ianto pursed his lips and appeared to think for a short time. He shook his head slightly but then he looked unflinchingly at The Doctor and nodded, "I just know it."

The Doctor met the young Welshman's eyes for a long beat. "Good enough for me!" he finally pronounced. "Now here's the plan. If Gray escaped his confinement and has set a trap for Jack using Gwen, I believe I know where he is."

"Where are they? Where's he taken my wife?" Rhys asked darkly.

"They've gone to Boeshane, roughly a hundred years before it was settled by Jack's ancestors, give or take," The Doctor replied confidently as John nodded in agreement.

Rhys was already on the move toward the TARDIS, "Then Boeshane is where we go."

The Doctor neatly sidestepped and extended his arm, halting Rhys' single-minded trajectory. "No. Wait, Rhys. John and I will go to Boeshane. I want you and Ianto to stay here."

"NO!" both Welshmen barked simultaneously and with equal vigor.

"What's the problem? It's a good plan!" The Doctor contended.

"She's my bloody wife, isn't she?" Rhys spat.

"I'm not denying that, Rhys. But I don't think she's his endgame. She's not really what he wants. He wants Jack. Once we show up, I believe the odds are good he'll willingly send her back to Cardiff. That's why I want the two of you here. Or rather one of the _two_ reasons why I want you here… And when Gwen is safely away from him, John and I will deal with Gray." The ever-optimistic Doctor paused, reconsidering what he just said and envisioning his glass half-full. "I mean we'll talk to him. Convincingly. We'll convincingly talk to him."

"But he wants Jack, not you, and certainly not _him_," Rhys glared at John.

"Yes, I know," The Doctor nodded. "And that's why if Plan A doesn't work, Plan B has me offering myself in a hostage swap. Either way, we'll get Gwen back here, I promise you, Rhys. I promise. You have my word. She is our first priority."

Ianto looked doubtful. "Right… hostage swap. A really good plan, Doctor," his voice was thick with sarcasm. "And the _other reason_ you want us here?"

Now John took over. "We want you to be ready to deal with Gray, Ianto. To put him on ice or whatever you can do to secure him once we manage to get him back here, so that when Jack returns…"

The young Welshman nodded, "So that when Jack returns he can deal with his brother again?" Ianto met John's gaze and held it, and something silent – a kind of understanding, maybe even an agreement – passed between them. Neither Rhys nor The Doctor saw it or was aware of it, but there was now a plan within a plan. Or so it seemed.

"I don't like it," Rhys muttered.

"I know and I'm sorry," said The Doctor, not unkindly. "But when it comes right down to it, it's my plan. And my ship."

Rhys swore something under his breath. The others ignored him.

"And now it's time to leave," The Doctor announced. "When we come back, where do you want him, Ianto? Where do you want Gray?"

"Where else?" the Welshman answered as he looked directly at John Hart. "The morgue."

_-00-_

_"Come, let us make love deathless."  
_Herbert Trench


	24. Chapter 24

**LOVE**

**TWENTYFOUR**

"Bastards!" Rhys Williams swore after the TARDIS disappeared.

Ianto Jones shook his head and smiled knowingly. "Not only do you have a way with words and a penchant for understatement, but you don't have a subtle bone in your body do you?"

Rhys scowled, "What do you mean?"

Ianto took a deep breath and then steepled his fingers against his lips. He looked down at the floor for several moments before meeting Rhys' eyes. "The Doctor may have a plan, but Captain John Hart does too – only it's a different plan. And it's likely that The Doctor doesn't know what John has in mind. Whatever is going on is illusory, to be sure, and I might have read the signals wrong, but I think John intends to destroy Gray, and I believe he may need or want our help to do it."

"What?"

"I don't want to betray any confidences here, but when Jack and I were together he talked a lot about John. Maybe talked too much about John. He loves him, Rhys. Perhaps more than anyone else in the universe." For a fleeting moment Ianto's voice took on a tone of awe. "They have something special, the two of them. Something almost mysterial. But at the same time Jack fears John, too. Imagine that! Jack Harkness fearing anyone – any _thing_! But it's true. John is one scary individual and according to Jack he can never, ever entirely be trusted. John is as loyal as the day is long and will defend you with his life, to be sure, but he'll also stab you in the back if it suits him. Or maybe even if it simply amuses him."

"This doesn't surprise me," Rhys countered with a glower. "And in fact I wouldn't be surprised to hear Jack Harkness described with those exact same words – if not the Jack we know in the here and now then the one back when he was a Time Agent or whatever the hell he was called. You know… what the both of them did before Torchwood. So what?"

"So – I saw it in his eyes. John intends to destroy Gray. And no wonder – Gray did terrible things to him. According to Jack, horrible, awful, abusive, and unnamable things. Things that John has neither forgiven nor forgotten. And maybe you're right about Jack: I wouldn't want either of them as an enemy; having them as friends and lovers is quite dangerous enough. But I'm pretty sure John doesn't want to wait for the Captain to get back. In fact he believes Jack has dropped the ball too many times in respect to his little brother. I think John is planning to use The Doctor to get to Gray and then kill him. Or more likely bring Gray back here and kill him. I saw John looking around. I'm sure you saw it too. The man can smell weapons a light year away and he knows we've armed ourselves to the teeth. He knows we're prepared to take down Gray if necessary. And just consider who he's traveling with – well, I expect at the moment John's weapons-based capabilities are highly limited. We both know The Doctor doesn't condone violence and doesn't have or allow offensive armaments on that ship of his. All he carries around is that bizarre old sonic screwdriver!"

"You're implying that The Doctor is naïve!"

"No… yes… maybe…" Ianto shook his head, "I just can't imagine Jack sitting up late at night telling the Time Lord bedtime stories about when he was with John at the Time Agency. Not like he did with me. Maybe _I'm_ being naïve. Or egocentric. Or maybe I'm blind and just plain wrong, but I just don't see Jack waxing poetic about John. I suspect The Doctor, as self-absorbed as he is, may truly not know what he has in John Hart. Doesn't truly realize what lies beneath the cover of that particular book. How treacherous, dangerous and self-serving the man actually is. If John Hart is holding a grudge against Gray, and I have absolutely no doubt that he is, and wants to extract vengeance for the terrible wrongs done to him, then nothing in this universe is going to stand in the way between him and his agenda. Not even a Time Lord…"

"I just don't know how you know all this…" Rhys sighed.

"All I can say is that I saw something in John's eyes. Something I've seen before in Jack's eyes as well." Ianto repressed a shiver.

"Rhys – I've always known it: I'm way out of my league with Jack. The same goes for John. Both of them really are a whole lot more than what meets the eye. It's like staring into the abyss and crossing your fingers that whatever is down there isn't going to jump out and bite your head off. The abyss is alluring, addictive, exciting – it's erotic as hell – but it's terrifying, too."

"So The Doctor's playing with fire?"

"Now you've got it."

"But did you ever consider…?" Rhys' voice trailed off.

"Consider what?"

"That it might cut both ways?"

A brief look of confusion crossed the young Welshman's face, "You mean that John's…?"

"The guy's a bloody _Time Lord_, Ianto." Rhys looked around the room, taking it all in, "Jack left this place, left his team – he left_ you_ – for The Doctor. Might that give you reason enough to think there's something more than special there behind those big brown bedroom eyes, and suspect that maybe, just maybe, you're underestimating him? I mean think, man!"

Ianto Jones was quiet for the better part of a minute. "I don't know. Perhaps you're right. I guess all I do know is we'd best be ready for the unpredictable, and that when it comes right down to it, I'm kind of glad I'm not with them because I'd be willing to wager a week's salary things are going to get very, very complicated."

There was another long silence before Rhys broke it, "Ianto?"

"Yes?"

Gwen's husband smiled darkly, "Although you don't always act it or even look like it, _I'd_ be willing to wager a week's salary that there's a whole lot more to you, too, than what meets the eye."

_-00-_

_Love is patient, love is kind.  
__It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  
__It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.  
__It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  
__Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.  
__It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  
__Love never fails._

I Corinthians 13:4-8


	25. Chapter 25

**LOVE**

**TWENTYFIVE**

She found him in a room. He was not alone. There was also a woman, who'd once been beautiful, but now she was clearly dead and from the grotesquely contorted appearance of her face she had died unpleasantly if not horribly.

Jack's eyes were closed and his head closely if imperfectly shaved. There were angry-looking red scars on his skull. His breathing was shallow and slow. Wil sensed no thoughts or even dreams coming from him but this did not unduly surprise her. Somehow she'd known all along that if there was anyone in the cosmos whose inner voice and private musings she would not hear it'd be Jack Harkness.

She could, of course, distinctly make out the constant cacophony of voices coming from outside the building, but they seemed far, far away. It dimly occurred to her that maybe she was growing accustomed to the noise, was perhaps learning to filter it out; she hoped so.

Although Grasshopper had informed her there was only one viable life form in the facility – and that it was Jack and he was injured – she had not been prepared for the heartbreaking sight which met her eyes. Last time she'd seen him, he had seemed implacable and unstoppable: the galactic superhero at the height of his powers, self-assured and calculating, a vibrant, healthy man whose polished exterior masked the ruthless drive and shrewd outlook within. A man of will and vision, ambition and desire. Lying half-dead in a hospital bed, a discarded intravenous drip hanging loose in his left arm and the disconnected cables of an EEG taped to his patchily shaved skull, he now looked pathetic and broken. His skin was translucent, stretched thin across slackened muscles, the outline of bones showing through at elbows and shoulders, knees and ankles; his lidded eyes were half-sunk in their sockets.

She went to him and whispered, "Jack?" There was no reaction. Tentatively she reached out and touched his face. It was cool but not ice cold, not deathly cold. "Oh Jack, what has he done to you?" she murmured. And then, "I'm here. You are not alone. He can't harm you any more and no one can hurt your soul."

It seemed the most natural thing in the world as she lay down next to him and held him close to her. She lay there for a long time, listening to him breathe.

Then… soundlessly: "Grasshopper?"

"Yes, Teacher?"

"Find Iserliss."

"I already know where he is. He is headed back to the other clinic to recruit more test subjects. As you have already noticed, the one here did not survive her ordeal."

"Capture him."

"Yes, Teacher. Consider it done. And then what?"

"I'll leave that up to you. Just get him out of the way, permanently. I don't want to see him. I don't want him to come back here. I don't want to think about him. Make sure that monster never harms another person, living or dead, again."

"Yes, Wil. Rest assured. Meanwhile I'll leave the Captain and you alone; you're quite safe here, I've seen to that. Call if you need me."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She slept for awhile. Upon waking and determining that Jack was still unconscious she stood up and went to a small, shallow water basin. There she dampened a cloth and after gingerly removing the I.V. and EEG cables, began to cleanse his body. Large areas of his skin were caked with blood and other bodily fluids. She quietly, without much thinking, walked back and forth between the basin and the bed, meticulously, steadily washing away the horrors.

At least the horrors she could see. She could only imagine in the darkest parts of her mind the horrors she couldn't see – thus her stalwart intention to think as little as possible, and to doggedly pacify those thoughts which remained; she emphatically did not want to envision those dark, unseeable horrors. She did not want to feel the blazing, perhaps uncontrollable outrage sure to accompany them.

Without realizing it as she continued to go about her grim work she began softly humming an aria from Puccini's _Tosca_. The song filled her heart, gradually replacing misery with hope.

She'd noticed some clean bed linens on a shelf. She carefully – oh so carefully! – rolled Jack from one side of the bed to the other as she stripped it and replaced the soiled sheets with clean. Finally satisfied that she'd done a sufficiently adequate if not perfect job, she covered the Captain with several fresh, unstained blankets and lay down once again at his side. She held his hand, stroked his face and, finally, allowed herself to cry.

She must've fallen asleep again because she woke with a start.

"What?" she said, her voice thick with slumber, not sure what it was she was reacting to.

"I said what was that you were humming?"

She opened her eyes, saw him looking at her.

"When?"

"A while ago, I think." His speech was hoarse, barely a whisper.

"Um… let me try to remember." She searched her memory. "I believe it was _Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore_."

"Ah. Puccini. Sing it for me, would you?"

"Now?"

"Now."

She took a deep breath,_ "Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore, non feci mai male ad anima viva…"_ she sang softly.

"No, in English please."

"Right, okay… Give me a second." She closed her eyes, saw the music in her imagination, felt it in her heart, and began again:

_I lived for art, I lived for love,  
__I never did harm to a living soul!  
__With a secret hand  
__I relieved as many misfortunes as I knew of.  
__Always with true faith  
__My prayer  
__Rose to the holy shrines.  
__Always with true faith  
__I gave flowers to the altar.  
__In the hour of grief  
__Why, why, Lord,  
__Why do you reward me thus?  
__I gave jewels for the Madonna's mantle,  
__And I gave my song to the stars, to heaven,  
__Which shone forth with greater radiance.  
__In the hour of grief  
__Why, why, Lord  
__Ah, why do you reward me thus?_

"Beautiful," he said after a long moment of stillness.

She opened her eyes; again saw him looking at her, this time tears were running down his face. "Thank you," she murmured, blushing from the compliment. It had been such a long time since she'd sung anything for anybody.

He grinned sheepishly, "The song was nice, too."

She couldn't help but smile – she'd misunderstood his meaning and it thrilled her. While she was still inundated by the never-ending clamor of thoughts from the thronging masses outside, inside where they were securely cloistered his mind was inaccessible, silent, a sweet and blessed relief.

"What is it?" he asked, his blue eyes painting her face.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

He reached for her, touched her, kissed her once, lightly, and then again, more deeply and insistently. She responded to him instantly, her body flowing effortlessly into seemingly ancient but never forgotten patterns. Patterns which were pristine, organic…

"You're distressed," he whispered after a time into her hair, and when she did not answer he kissed her once more.

His fingers gripped her tightly and then softened as he wrapped his arms around her. She could feel him quicken. Her clothes were off before she even realized it. She guided him inside of her and made love to him as he filled her body, soothed her heart and calmed her soul with his warmth, again and again.

At one point they quieted. "I miss you," he said.

"I love you," was her response.

"I know."

Then they made love again.

_-00-_

"_One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love."  
_Sophocles


	26. Chapter 26

**LOVE**

**TWENTYSIX**

The Doctor was the first to leave his ship. John held back for a few moments before following.

The sight which met the Time Lord's eyes was not a pleasant one. It was not totally unexpected but that made it no less appalling. His jaw clenched involuntarily.

As foreseen, Gray was indeed on Boeshane. In fact, he was in the exact same spot where the Captain and his precious Time Lord had previously made their campfire and lounged peacefully on the beach amidst the shooting stars and crashing waves. The large piece of scavenged driftwood was still there, and on it sat a naked and shivering Gwen Cooper. The Doctor swallowed hard. Gwen was clearly injured, her face swollen and bruised, but she appeared to recognize him – she seemed quite aware of her surroundings and was evidently able to sit up on her own. Gray stood close behind her, his hand resting lightly on the top of Gwen's head.

"Well… hello dear Doctor. I have to admit I'm surprised to see you," Gray sneered as he absent-mindedly whorled some of Gwen's hair around his fingers. "No, I can't say that I was expecting you at all, not that I'm not pleased. And who's this with you? John-boy! My goodness, this _is_ a surprise. Have you been missing me, Captain Hart? Missing what I used to do to you? How I'd make you feel…?"

"You were maybe expecting someone else?" The Doctor asked calmly as he slowly, very slowly, took a step or two toward Gray and his trembling captive.

"As a matter of fact I was. Where's Jack?" Gray tugged on Gwen's hair. She stiffened and gasped softly.

"He's otherwise occupied and has sent us in his stead." The Doctor was keeping his hands out in the open, away from his pockets, trying his best to appear non-threatening. "He's given us full authority to speak with you – to negotiate for Ms. Cooper's release. Now that we're here I'm sure you no longer are in need of her, correct?"

Another tug and another gasp followed. "Oh, I'm not so sure of that." Gray was staring at the Time Lord intently. "Although you're a very pretty prize, Doctor, it's my brother who I really want. And what is that quaint Earth saying? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." He leaned over pulling Gwen's face toward him and roughly kissed her on the cheek.

"What do you want, Gray?" The Doctor's voice, face, had turned harder.

"I've already told you. Are you becoming forgetful in your old age? Must I tell you again, you doddering, antiquated fool? Gods but you are tiresome. I want my brother. Here. Unarmed. Alone. We have some unfinished business to attend to, he and I – but you know all about such things don't you, John-boy? Unfinished business is something which has plagued you perpetually throughout your pathetic, useless, cowardly life."

Jack's little brother's focus seemed to shift twenty paces to the left… he giggled as he glanced away from The Doctor, apparently peering off into the distance – somewhere else entirely. A look of confusion momentarily graced the Time Lord's face in response to Gray's odd behavior. He turned his head to see what Gray was gazing at and that's when everything changed. Something – some_one_ – savagely grabbed The Doctor from behind, setting him off-balance, and suddenly a cold sharp blade was pressed against his neck.

"Give her to me and I'll give you the Time Lord," John hissed as the Gallifreyan struggled heroically but was quickly subdued by the knife's increased pressure against his carotid artery.

"What's this? Treachery thy name is John Hart?" Gray laughed out loud gleefully. "What is this all about, Captain Hart? What game are you playing at here?"

John had been using his free hand to go through The Doctor's pockets. He found what he was searching for, held the sonic screwdriver up into the air triumphantly and then stuck it in his waistband with a satisfied smile. The smile turned wolfish, "I want her," he breathed, "I've wanted her ever since that first time you sent me to Cardiff to look up Jack. You remember? When you gave me those lovely little radioactive cluster bombs to play with? Well, I almost had her then – but extenuating circumstances, so to speak, got in the way of my consummating our relationship…" He glared at Gwen hotly and her eyes went big as saucers. Her trembling became full-fledged shaking.

"I've missed you, it's just like you said, Gray. It is true. I miss the mischief we used to make, the plans we used to hatch and the fearsome chaos that constantly swarmed around us. And you were right – you're the only one who has ever really loved me the way I want and need to be loved, I know that now. I admit it freely. I need you. Life is a pale shadow of itself without you. But I want the bitch, Gray – I've not been able to get her out of my head – you know what it's like – and I'm willing to trade the Time Lord for her."

"The Time Lord…?"

"Sure, why not? If you're trying to entrap Jack, there's no better lure. Let me tell you something… something that even you with those powerful friends of yours and all those fantastic resources at your disposal might not know. Do you want to hear it? Do you want to know my secret?"

"Go ahead. Tell me what I don't know, John Hart." This was said with a sneer but the words' tone belied Gray's curiosity.

"All right," John took the blade of his knife and sensually caressed The Doctor's face with it. "You called them lovers back in Cardiff, but you knew that was literally untrue. You were just taunting the Captain, and that's okay. Good for you. In my book there are few more worthy pursuits than getting under Jack's skin. Yet something extraordinary happened after Jack locked you away, while you were so patiently working to get Gwen to free you from your brother's latest attempt at imprisonment – and congratulations on that, by the way. Very nicely done. But Gray, listen, it's no longer literally untrue. It happened right here, on this beach. On Jack's precious home world. Jack finally got what he's been wanting and the Captain and The Doctor finally consummated _their_ relationship. The Time Lord let it slip, admitted it to me, that he'd finally let Jack in, and I could tell by the look on his face, in his eyes, that he was telling the truth. I've seen that look before – he's fucking smitten! They've pledged to each other, Gray. Our frigid, barren Time Lord has opened up his heart and his body and his soul to Captain Jack Harkness…"

John shrugged, his expression cruel, "As apparently most of us end up doing sooner or later, the bloody bastard."

"John!" The Doctor snarled. John moved his knife back to The Doctor's throat and pressed. A few drops of Gallifreyan blood appeared on the silver blade.

"Gray, there's no better bait for Jack Harkness than the Time Lord, and I have him here for you, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. All I ask for, all I want in exchange is her."

"I could take The Doctor from you, you know. And keep the bitch as well."

"Of course I know. And I know you could kill me where I stand. But why? It's a small thing that I want; something of little consequence and of no great value to you. Besides, I can help you with Jack – you see I know where he is. He's with Wil…"

"Oh dear, did you lose mommy?"

John winced. "Let's just call it additional extenuating circumstances. I'm through with her; can we leave it at that?"

"Oh! Touchy!"

"Shut up, Gray. I'm trying to be helpful here. Really, we do need to work some more on those social skills of yours. Look, I can tell you that there's about to be a big reunion in Cardiff, and afterward a very irate Jack is going to come looking for you, guns blazing. But it seems to me even though we've not been invited to the party that you and I should definitely show up anyway." John's eyes shined ferally, "There's mischief to be made, Gray."

Gray nodded. "Give him to me," he said.

John Hart clicked his tongue a couple of times and herded the thrashing Time Lord over to the driftwood. Gray released Gwen roughly. She slumped to the ground and tried to scrabble away but the hand-off had already taken place and John grabbed the woman easily by the scruff of her neck. "Where are you going beautiful?" he sneered. "Oh wait, I can answer that…" He looked at Gray. "I'd like a few minutes back inside with her before we leave, would you like to watch?"

Gray leered, "Normally yes. You know that. But I think I want to get reacquainted with The Doctor. Go take your few minutes and then get ready to depart. We'll head back to Cardiff and crash that party."

John pulled Gwen up to her feet and pushed her toward the TARDIS. Before they disappeared inside he turned and looked at Gray. "Do you plan on taking the ship?"

"Ship? You mean that grotesque thing? No… as you're already well aware, I don't need a ship. We'll leave it here and let it fall to ruin. Or maybe I'll have my friends come and pick it up later. Have them rip it apart atom by atom and scatter it across the Void." He shrugged, "I really don't know that I care. Go ahead… get on with your unfinished business…"

"Thanks, Gray. Hey… It's nice to be back."

"And it's nice to have you back, Captain John Hart. Have fun consummating."

_-00-_

"_We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love."  
_Tom Robbins


	27. Chapter 27

**LOVE**

**TWENTYSEVEN**

Wil rolled over and opened her eyes. Jack was watching her, a bemused look on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"You were snoring," he replied.

"Was not."

"Were too."

"I don't snore."

"Yes you do," he grinned. Then his expression turned serious, "How are you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

He shook his head slowly. "Listen," he whispered.

A befuddled look graced her face but she calmed herself and did as her Captain ordered. _Old habits die hard._ Slowly the awareness came to her… she was hearing nothing. Absolutely nothing…

Her eyes went round, "Huh?"

He smiled again. This time a smile which made her realize all the other smiles had been mere shadows of the real thing. For a second or two she allowed herself to bask in the glow of that glorious Jack Harkness smile before asking, "What did you do?"

"I have witchcraft in my lips."

She pulled a face, "Shakespeare? _Henry the Fifth_?"

"Well… more or less."

"Hmm… You're telling me you have magic kisses?"

He shrugged, as much as one can shrug while lying down. "You've read the case files. Carys… Ianto… And the others."

"But how? Is it something… the thing that Rose did to you?"

"No, I don't think so. Or at least not solely. Oh, it is true: thanks to Rose Tyler I have a surplus of alive. But I suspect what's going on here is more of a combination of things. Rose's gift along with the fact that I'm a different kind of human; we changed, morphed, evolved, between the twenty-first and fifty-first centuries. My pheromones are one of the more obvious examples of that transformation, one of the more blatant aspects, but there are many other things that make me quite unlike you."

"Are you saying you're more advanced than me?"

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. But beyond even that…" a dark look flashed across his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what Iserliss did to me…"

Wil blinked at him but said nothing. She simply waited. In truth she almost didn't want to know. It would be so much easier to not have to meet that story. Greet those images. Deal with such knowledge and the staggering wrath it could, would provoke in her. _I'm a bloody coward,_ she thought as she tried to steady herself.

"He messed with my brain. Extracted pieces of it to study, to experiment on. I've had several strokes, been paralyzed, and worse. But each time he'd drag me back, shake me hard, wake me up. I always recovered and I felt like myself – I feel like myself, I really do, but yet… I feel different, too. I feel like I'm more than I was. Like the sum total of my parts way exceeds the whole. I can't explain it, but somehow I knew you were in trouble and _somehow_ I knew that I could help. Or maybe…" his voice trailed off as he looked deep into her eyes. "Maybe it's just that I love you and I don't want you hurting so badly."

"Yeah, about that…" she said.

Again the smile. "The art of life is to deal with problems as they arise, rather than destroy one's spirit by worrying about them too far in advance. We should seek simply to live, as the poet has it – _vita umbratilis_ – a life in the shade. Especially here and especially now, Wil." He leaned close to her, kissed her lightly, almost chastely. She felt a shiver of arousal but did not act on it.

Instead she nodded; let the issue pass in deference to something more pressing. "So you knew, you understood, what had happened to me? That I could hear… everything…?"

"Yes."

"Do you know why it happened?"

"Haven't a clue."

"But you… you've _fixed_ it?"

Once more he shrugged. "What do _you_ think?"

She searched her mind, stretched out her senses, "Seems that way…"

His face morphed into a wicked, wicked grin, "My God, John must've been annoyed."

_John…_

The grin held fast, "Whoops. Sorry."

"You're incorrigible, Captain Jack Harkness."

"I am, aren't I?"

There was a long period of silence as they looked at each other.

"Thank you," he said softly, so softly. "I didn't want to die alone."

"You wouldn't have died."

"Here? Yes. I think I would have. Eventually… there's no doubt. But you were right. Although my body was ravaged and my mind violated, my soul remained unhurt, intact – was perhaps stronger than ever."

That surprised her, "You heard me, even then?"

He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, "Of course. I will always hear you. Always and forever."

Then he sat up and stretched, letting the blankets fall from his torso. Looking at him as detachedly as possible she realized the angry red scars on his skull had vanished. His skin color was good, his body strong, firm, beautiful.

He turned, saw her appraising him and smiled shyly, "My clothes?"

She sat up, got out of bed, looked around, "They're back on the ship – my ship – but I do just happen to have this with me." She picked up her shirt from off the floor and rifled through its pocket. Out came Jack's worn leather wristband.

"Ah!" he gratefully took it from her. "Again, thank you." He buckled the strap around his left wrist and then watched approvingly as she got dressed. "You've recovered nicely from your injuries," he commented. "You look good, but somehow… different."

"I _am_ different. There are some problems that even you can't fix, Captain Jack Harkness." There was no trace of bitterness in her voice. Nor in her heart.

"I reckon that's true." He stood, looked down at his body and then back again at her. "So… what's next?"

She smiled. "Right. First clothes and then, well, we've got places to go, people to meet, and things to accomplish."

"Of course we do. You want to fill me in? I admit I've kind of been wondering where…"

"Give me a moment?"

"Absolutely." He flexed his shoulders and stretched out his back.

_Grasshopper?_

_Yes, Teacher?_

_Have you taken care of things?_

_Yes, Teacher._

_Good. Good. I think we're ready to leave._

_I believe I am too, Teacher. I don't like this place very much._

_Well, we're in agreement there. Are you able to beam us aboard?_

_Yes Teacher._

_Then do so and prepare for immediate departure._

_Our destination, Teacher?_

_To Cardiff, Grasshopper. _

Wil reached out and took Jack's hand in hers.

"Say goodbye to Miri, Jack."

They were gone before he could even open his mouth.

_-00-_

_"Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence."  
_Vincent van Gogh


	28. Chapter 28

**LOVE**

**TWENTYEIGHT**

John pushed Gwen out through the open doors of the TARDIS and smiled brashly.

Gray howled with laughter, "What's that you have her wearing?"

"It's a sort of wedding costume that Earth women use," John snickered. "The Time Lord has a ship full of bizarre apparel such as this. What do you think?"

"Oh, that's rich. I think it's good. It's very good." He leered, "How was she?"

"Ah, she's quite nice, actually. Worth the wait," John scratched his crotch. "A bit of a fighter, though."

"She's a bitch."

"That too," John laughed. Then he looked down curiously at The Doctor who was lying prostrate on the ground.

"Have you killed him?" the former Time Agent asked coolly.

"The Time Lord? No. I just had a little fun with him. He's not permanently damaged. Mind you – don't forget we need to keep him alive, although it's rather unfortunate isn't it? I would like to see this regeneration business I've heard so much about. Well… all in good time, I'm sure. We need him intact and in his current form to attract my big brother, although based on my interview with him, he'd apparently rather die than be used to ensnare Jack. Pathetic isn't it, such dedication?" Gray paused for a moment and insolently contemplated The Doctor's shape. "Even then, after I'm finished with Jack, I think I might just keep the Gallifreyan. Having a pet Time Lord could be a lot of fun, wouldn't you agree?"

"I've always been intrigued by those regeneration rumors… you believe he really does it?"

"No doubt about it. The rumors are fact. But why _intrigued_?"

"Well, your brother, my former lover Jack Harkness, might be immortal, but I'm not. I'd settle for the ability to regenerate if I can't live forever…"

"Live forever? Are you worried about that, my sweet friend?" The Doctor moaned softly as Gray used the toe of his boot to prod him in the ribs. "Don't be. My associates can help you with that, and more. Don't you see? Haven't I told you? There are benefits in sticking with me, Captain John Hart. Stay with me and you'll never have to worry about anything as mundane as death again."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"Perhaps it does, but it's not. My colleagues, my friends, the Aedui as you call them, are powerful indeed. You've met them, haven't you, so you already know that to be true. However I do need to inform you they don't like you very much…"

"Hardly anybody does," John snapped but then laughed.

"But you are under my protection now. You're with me and so you're part of the team, my sweet friend. I won't let anything happen to you… at least anything I don't choose to have happen. You've nothing to worry about. Oh, but I have missed you, John Hart. The good times we used to have… It hasn't been the same without you." Gray glared at Gwen who was standing mutely at John's side, staring at the ground, "She wasn't any fun for me, you know?"

"I know. I'm sorry. And it's okay. There'll be plenty of fun to be had from now on. And if not her, there are lots of others… Endless others…"

"That red-headed one of yours…?"

John dry-swallowed, "Yes, Wil Beinert." He grabbed for Gwen but she attempted to squirm out of his reach. In response he slapped her hard, the sound of his hand as it smacked against her face reverberating through the air, spawning waves in the ether like pebbles tossed into a pond. "Wil's even harder to handle than this one here. She's very tricky. Very smart as well. And then there's that damn ship of hers. But if you want her, she'll be at the party." He grinned sardonically as he pulled Gwen closer, "I'm sure something can be arranged."

"The more the merrier!"

"Yes, Gray. All waiting just for you."

Jack's little brother looked down at the Time Lord and kicked him again, "Wake up you worthless piece of shit. Oh! Did I say worthless piece of shit? I meant to say invaluable morsel of bait. It's time to go! Chop chop!"

The Doctor groaned and then slowly, painfully, unsteadily, pushed himself up to his feet. He glared at John but said nothing as he wiped away blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he moved his fingers little by little back down to his side, attempting to unobtrusively reach within his coat.

But not unobtrusively enough. "Uh-uh-uh," sang John. "Doctor… Are you by any chance looking for this?" He pulled the Time Lord's sonic screwdriver out from his waistband and aimed it directly at Gwen's head.

"No!" screamed The Doctor.

Gray laughed. So did John.

_-00-_

"_Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be."  
_Anton Chekhov


	29. Chapter 29

**LOVE**

**TWENTYNINE**

Although he'd be loath to admit it, Ianto Jones had something in common with John Hart.

And it had to do with waiting.

That particular skill set – the ability to calmly, quietly bide one's time – came from different places in each of the two men, to be sure. For John it was one piece of his carefully acquired and honed survival strategy: to not expend energy, whether physical or psychological, unnecessarily. Let there be no doubt that John Hart was a man of intense action. But he was also a man of extreme and sometimes maddening patience. Part of what made him so brilliant was his instinctive understanding as to when it was time to wait versus when it was time to act. That innate understanding had saved John's sorry hide – and his sanity – innumerable times.

Ianto Jones, on the other hand, was born patient. As a young boy, no matter how unpleasant life became, he always knew that eventually, if he just waited long enough, things would change. Of course there was always the chance that change might not be for the better. So he learnt perseverance, too. As well as courage of heart. And strength of will. And as Ianto grew older he began to understand how he could control change, at least to some extent, and drive it in a positive direction. He learned to be observant and flexible. He learned how to take advantage of a situation. He learned to keep his head down when necessary, and not draw undue attention to himself. He learned to think on his feet, to make a decision – usually the right one – quickly and to not look back. In some if not many of these characteristics he was perhaps more like John than he cared to acknowledge. But, he had also learned the value of a true and steady moral compass, and in this he was possibly (probably?) very much _unlike_ our illustrious Captain John Hart. This is not to deny that the young Welshman had veered off-course several times, however he also had the ability to learn from his mistakes as well as his successes. There had been many of both in his life but the balance continued to tip in favor of the latter.

_Waiting_ had become the day's watchword.

The Hub had been placed into night mode. Whether or not it was actually nighttime in the real world, out there in Cardiff, was inconsequential. Outside perhaps the sun was shining and people were blissfully going about their daily routines… going to work, or shopping or visiting the cafes and coffeehouses. Inside Torchwood Three the lights had been dimmed, many of the monitors were dark and the constant hum of the facility's hardware had been reduced to a gentle whisper.

There was nothing left to be done. Checklist items had been ticked off and then double-checked. All preparations and precautions were complete. Ianto had fired up the espresso machine and now the two men sat and waited while their untouched coffee cups went cold.

Rhys Williams did not like the waiting.

In fact, Rhys was fidgeting, almost vibrating. "Damn it, Ianto. I wish we could do something!" he said agitatedly. "This is killing me!"

"We _have _done something, Rhys." Ianto's voice was soothing, his expression serene. "We've done a lot of somethings. We've done everything that we possibly could. We're as ready as we can conceivably be. Now it's time to sit and…"

"Right," Rhys interrupted Ianto with a brusk wave of his hand. "It's time to be patient. I know that! Still, I don't like it. I'm not liking it at all."

Ianto picked up his cup, swirled the contents around and then set it back down without drinking. "Rhys, I understand you're worried. And God knows you have a right to be worried. But it's out of our hands. You need to trust…"

"Trust!" the older Welshman barked. "It's my wife we're talking about, man! Are you telling me I should trust her life to anyone else?"

In the faint light Ianto nodded, "That's exactly what I'm telling you. The Doctor? Jack? Wil? I would trust any of them with my own life, with the life of…"

"With the life of _whom_, Ianto? Tell me, have you ever been married? Is there someone whose life means more to you than your own? Than anything else in the entire universe?"

Ianto clamped his mouth shut and blinked back the hot tears he felt suddenly – surprisingly – filling his eyes. "There is someone," he said softly.

To his credit Rhys did not press the point. Instead he asked, "So you trust them? You trust them all? Even Captain John Hart?"

A shadow of darkness crossed Ianto's face. "I'll be honest with you. I'm not sure about him. He's the unknown quantity in this mix. Jack always said… well, I've told you what Jack has said about John, that he is dangerous, that he couldn't be trusted. That he's egocentric and selfish and totally self-serving. And yet, the two of them share this incredible bond that Jack will never, ever break. How do you reconcile that? How do you reconcile what you see when they are together, and what you feel coming from them when they look at each other, with Jack's words of caution? Of warning?"

Rhys shook his head, "There are many different kinds of relationships, Ianto. Many different forms of love. Not all are healthy."

The two men's eyes met for a long moment.

"What's it like?" Ianto asked at length.

"What's what like?"

"Being married?"

"Do you mean finding someone?"

Ianto shrugged in response.

Rhys sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes as he filled his mind with images of the woman he adored, of the life they'd made together. "It's amazing. And it's scary. You suddenly realize you're never going to have to look at another person again for as long as you live and wonder 'Is this the one?' You realize you've found what you've been searching for, that you've filled an emptiness in your soul you didn't even know was there. There's a sense of comfort and calmness. And there's this astonishing sense of certainty. The certainty that this person will love you forever, will never hurt you, and will always take care of you. The certainty that you need not worry nor fear nor be anxious. That no matter what happens there is always the love at the core of everything.

"The scary part comes in when you realize it's all reciprocal. Right? That what you get you must also return. You know, it's like that old song says: the love you take is equal to the love you make. Some of us are born knowing how to do that, for the rest of us we have to learn, usually by trial and error, and you can only hope and pray that the other person is patient and forgiving. That they will wait for you to figure it all out. Or better yet, help you along."

Rhys opened his eyes, "Gwen has helped me along and I'm so lucky…" With an abrupt jolt he noticed Ianto's face. "Ianto? Are you okay?"

The young Welshman nodded and smiled sadly through his tears.

"My God, lad, do you want to talk about it?"

"No, no I don't Rhys. But I'm happy for you and I promise… I promise you just like The Doctor promised, that we'll get her back." Ianto took a deep breath. "In the meantime, you remember what you were saying about comfort and calmness and certainty?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, that's our mantra. Keep those three words close both in your mind and in your heart."

Without shame Ianto pulled out a handkerchief and dried his eyes, "Meanwhile, how about if I make us a nice pot of tea while we continue to wait?"

Rhys smiled, "Tea. Earl Grey. Hot. The perfect solution to any problem!"

Ianto returned the smile. "Actually, no. Not quite. _That's_ a raspberry mocha latte with extra whip and chocolate sprinkles on the top. Tea is something else entirely. It's the universally acknowledged liquid comfort food. And it seems to me a good cup of tea is exactly what we both really could use right about now."

_-00-_

"_Love is all you need."  
_John Lennon


	30. Chapter 30

**LOVE**

**THIRTY**

When they arrived at the Hub, it was dark. Really dark. All that could be seen were a couple of spasmodically blinking amber monitor lights. Otherwise it was totally, absolutely, pitch black.

"John!" Gray stage-whispered as he peered into the murk. "Where the hell is everybody?"

"I don't know! Shit, Gray. Maybe it's a trap. Hey, I think we should…"

All of a sudden the area around them was filled with the hot, white light of a million suns. John screamed in anguish. Gray was about to join his companion in that same activity when he felt The Doctor being wrenched ferociously from his grasp. He objected loudly to this rude turn of events but his exclamation was drowned out by an even louder sound.

"Hello little brother," a voice boomed. "How nice of you to come."

The words were followed by an intense pain the likes of which Gray had never before experienced. Not even when he was chained down amidst the corpses and tortured by the Aedui had he ever felt anything as staggeringly, excruciatingly unendurable. He stumbled backward in agony, but something incredibly vicious caught him from behind. That something hurt him even more profoundly. Simple existence became unequivocally harrowing and Gray's animal-like shriek lasted longer than might be believed humanly possible. And yet that frightful shriek went on and on.

"You'd best stand very still, little brother," the words thundered and echoed. "You're in a stasis field – a sort of cage. If you move, it will hurt you. And if you move a lot, it will hurt you a lot. Get it? Behave and the pain will probably be survivable. _Probably._ Don't behave and unfathomably terrible things will happen to you and you will die horribly. I got the idea from someone my friend The Doctor and I ran into a while back – a nasty little freak, to be sure, in truth he kind of reminded me of you – but in my usual adept fashion I took his concept and significantly improved upon it. I hope you appreciate the honor I'm bestowing upon you. You're the very first client to try it out. So how is it?"

Gray howled in torment.

"Wow. That good, huh? Well, not to boast but I am quite proud of it. You see, it's a quantum stasis chamber. When you're inside of it, you're essentially not of this universe, nor any other universe for that matter. In fact you're hidden from subspace as well; it's like you don't exist. You're entirely and absolutely invisible! You're missing in action. Absent without leave. The only reason I can see you – that _we_ can see you – is because of the highly charged quantized magnetic flux field I've set up around this complex. Isn't that brilliant? Highly charged quantized magnetic flux field – try saying that three times real fast when you're drunk; or even when you're not drunk." Jack chuckled menacingly. "The point is, I could keep you in this most perfect of prisons forever, Gray, and no one would ever, _ever_ find you. And when I turn off the highly charged quantized magnetic flux field we won't be able to find you either. Or see you. Or hear you. You'll literally vanish. Out of sight, out of mind. Without a trace, forever and ever and ever…"

Meantime, while Jack Harkness was busy torturing his little brother, John Hart had managed to sidle out of the intense beam of illumination which had been focused on him and the accursed Gray. John evaluated the situation as he quickly surveyed his surroundings. With a gentle push he released Gwen to her anxious husband, who was waiting tensely in the shadows not far away. Then John put his arm around The Doctor so as to steady him.

"Are you okay?" he asked the Time Lord worriedly.

The Doctor nodded but slumped forebodingly against the former Time Agent.

"Oh jeez. Damn it! You're not okay, are you? I'm sorry you had to go through all that." John glanced over at Wil and Ianto, who were standing maybe thirty feet away. "Shit," he hissed, "I hope you haven't put on any weight since the last time I had to do this." He wrapped his other arm around the Doctor, picked him up like a child and carried him toward where the other two were obviously and obliviously mesmerized by the floorshow Jack was putting on. When they realized what was happening they rushed to meet him.

"What's wrong?" Wil asked.

"Gray had the Time Lord alone… had him alone for longer than I really would have liked. I'm afraid he's been hurt."

Ianto nodded, "Give him to me, I'll take him to the medical bay."

John transferred his precious payload, "Take good care of him, eye-candy." Ianto clenched his jaw but caught the hint of a wink.

"No drugs! No I.V.s!" Wil whispered harshly.

"These things I already know." The young Welshman cradled the Time Lord's body against his chest and briskly moved off.

John looked at Wil and then blinked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Mean what?"

"What I just was thinking…"

"What were you just thinking?"

"Well, I… The Doctor… he's… um… It's just that I can see why Jack…" John stopped and stared. "Wait, don't you? Can't you?"

She shook her head, "I've got nothing."

"But how…?"

She held an index finger to her lips. "Be quiet my love, I want to listen to this." She lowered her hand, found his fingers and held them tightly in hers.

Evidently Gray had stopped screaming. He'd discovered if he stood absolutely still that, as his brother had claimed, the pain was tolerable – but just barely. He still couldn't see anything due to the harrowing luminance that surrounded him; a radiance that was burning into his retinas and blinding him.

There was an ominous silence which the Captain had allowed to grow, an old trick to increase tension. And then, when Jack had waited so long that it seemed that something surely must be wrong, he began to speak.

"Some part of you has been taken elsewhere," Jack Harkness said softly, his voice no longer booming but still clear and resonant. "When you were young, I know that piece was there – that precious spark that makes a person human, and which makes a human special. The precious spark that gives a person a heart and a soul, the ability to love, to care, to smile and to laugh. I saw it, I felt it. We all saw it and felt it. You were our beloved Gray. You were a beautiful child and a wonderful little brother and a fantastic son. You were growing up so quickly, on your way to becoming a good and decent man. But it's gone… the spark is gone and I have to accept that. I have to accept that it is gone for good.

"Just as I have to accept that I played a part in its disappearance. I will never forgive myself for letting go of your hand that day. I have tried to make up for it, Gray. The gods and goddesses of the cosmos know I have tried. And I have forgiven you for your trespasses as I hoped you would forgive me, as I will never forgive myself. I have given you a second chance, and then a third. And I have to ask you then, because I need to understand, why do you reward me thus? Why do you hurt my friends? Hurt my loved ones? Why, little brother, why do you reward me thus?

"I ask, but I know there will be no answer. I have to accept that as well.

"Here at the end, Gray, finally, I have come to realize that I have no reason to feel guilty. I've done all I could. There's nothing more. Nothing remains. I have nothing else left to give you. So – what am I to do with you, little brother? I cannot save you. I cannot help you. I cannot fix you. I am out of options. You leave me no choice."

John Hart tore his eyes away from Jack Harkness and looked at his other lover's face. Wil Beinert's eyes were closed and she was crying. He released her hand, put his arm around her shoulders and felt her body shake with sobs.

_-00-_

"_For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."  
_Carl Sagan


	31. Chapter 31

**LOVE**

**THIRTYONE**

John had seen many deaths, witnessed many executions, and yes, committed many murders. He was intimately familiar with death, dare we say even comfortable with it. Death in its infinite varieties and permutations had become so very, very commonplace to him. More than just a part of life, it was ordinary, uninteresting, boring. Death was no big deal. It was nothing special. But despite all that, really, when it came right down to it, he definitely would've preferred to not have to watch this particular death. And yet he felt he owed it to his great friend, his cherished lover, his eternal colleague, to now stand and attend. He was beholden to Jack Harkness beyond all measure and would willingly if not enthusiastically be the Captain's signatory in this sad, sordid affair. Let there be no doubt: he would always and forever stand at Jack's side. And yet… _fratricide_? The one act Jack had sworn he would never, ever commit? Such a horrendous crime to be on the conscience of a man who would live forever – until the universes wound down and went cold? The concept left a bad taste in John Hart's mouth.

"Jack, no. Let me do it…" It felt as if the words came out on their own volition but John meant them more than he'd ever meant anything in his life. Even though he knew very well what those words foreshadowed. But despite that, despite what his offering foretold, despite its dire promise, he would not, could not, allow Jack to kill his own brother. No… he would perform the act himself and undoubtedly incur the Captain's eternal, infinite hatred as his brother's murderer.

Captain Jack Harkness turned and looked at Captain John Hart. Their eyes met and Jack smiled sadly for a long moment before he looked away, looked back at his little brother.

"You leave me no choice, Gray. So I'm going to let you go."

In a graceful, sweeping arc, Jack slowly waved his hand through the air and the facility's lighting went back to normal, the shimmering stasis field disappeared.

Gray stood, open-mouthed, wide-eyed.

"I'm going to let you go little brother because, you know what? You were right; I don't have the balls to kill you. Now… be aware there are a couple of individuals in this room who do – well, one has the literal balls, for the other it's only figurative, but she's no less lethal. Still, you get the picture, right? And I know there are a couple of other people within spitting distance of here who would be more than happy to do you in. In fact I'm pretty certain there's not a living soul in this entire complex who wouldn't love to see you dead – including even The Doctor, who you've now sorely tested. And that, in and of itself, is really quite an amazing accomplishment if you stop to think about it, because my Time Lord friend won't squish a spider in the bathtub. But the bottom line is you're my brother and it is my decision. So off with you, oh Prince of the Dark Force. Game, set and match, dread King of Darkness. And by the way, Gray, I strongly recommend from this point forward that you stay away from this planet. If for some reason you need me, contact me off-list, little brother. Now skedaddle. Go and eat your lunch alone. Begone! Vamoose!"

Gray had not moved a centimeter, "You mean you're just going to let me go?"

"That's what I said."

"What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, little brother."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm telling you that you can go, so you really should go, Gray."

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're my brother and I love you?"

"That's not good enough."

"No? Well how about what Alexander Pope said? _To forgive is divine_."

"I've always known you have illusions of godhood big brother, but nope… still nowhere near good enough."

"Well how about this?" Jack's voice became harsher, harder. "Each time you've come up against me I've whipped your ass. And I will continue to whip your ass. If necessary I will whip your ass until the end of Time. I will whip your ass by myself. I will whip your ass along with my friends. I will whip your ass across the depth and breadth of the galaxy and beyond. I will whip your ass in this universe and the next universe and the one after that. Am I coming through clearly? Can you hear me now? I figure it's maybe time for you to think about finding another hobby, Gray. Take up pottery or golf or something like that. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind, bro." Jack sneered. "Go back to your best and only friends, those hellish many-angled ones who live at the bottom of the Mandelbrot set. Shoo!"

Gray pursed his lips as if he was going to speak, but then blinked, nodded once and vanished.

The Captain stood alone for a few moments, staring blankly at the empty space his brother had just occupied.

Then Wil bolted and ran over to him, John following in her wake. She threw her arms around Jack and they embraced.

John stopped a few feet away and watched, suddenly realizing something had happened – something had changed – that he was now the odd man out. He studied them for a few more seconds before he turned and stepped quickly, quietly away.

"Captain Hart!" Jack's voice roared. "Where in the hell do you think you're going?"

John spun round; saw the two of them standing separately, grinning at him.

Jack opened his arms wide, his eyes laughing, "Come over here you freaking little weasel and give me a hug."

But there was also something else in Jack's eyes. _It's your choice_, it said. _Accept what happened and stay or walk away and lose her. It's up to you._

It was not the first time, nor probably the last, that they'd both be in love with the same person…

John smiled, walked into Jack's strong embrace and returned it. "Like the haircut," he whispered, and then more loudly, "The Doctor will be proud of you."

"You think?" replied the Captain. "Maybe that's what I'm afraid of, of becoming too much like him."

John stood back, reached out his hand and found Wil's waiting for it. "I kind of think that's not going to happen, but if it did I'm not sure it would be such a bad thing, Jack. Next to you he's the bravest person I've ever met." John gave Wil's hand a tender squeeze. "Talk about having balls! What he put himself through really took _cojones_. He's an amazing man. Strange, but amazing."

"You don't have to tell me that."

"And by the way, Jack, speaking of strange…" John narrowed his eyes. "What was that you did back there?"

"Huh?"

John waved his free hand slowly through the air as Jack had done a few minutes before. "You know, the grand, panoptic gesture and the light show and the whole _I'm going to let you go_ bit. Were you channeling Obi-Wan Kenobi?

The Captain burst out laughing. "I had to have a little fun, didn't I? The entire thing was becoming way too damn serious. Do you think Gray caught the allusion?"

John shook his head. "_Star Wars_? Are you joking? I don't think he watches movies."

"And maybe that's his problem," Wil intruded on what was beginning to feel like a very private, if not intimate, conversation. "Or at least one of them. Imagine growing up and not seeing _Star Wars_. Not knowing who Luke Skywalker is. Or Han Solo."

Both men turned to look at her.

"I love her, Jack."

"I know you do, John."

The Captain pivoted smartly and walked off toward the medical bay, leaving the two of them alone.

_-00-_

_"The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable."  
_Victor Hugo


	32. Chapter 32

**LOVE**

**THIRTYTWO**

By the time Ianto had arrived at the medical bay's ICU with his precious burden, Rhys had already put Gwen down on one of the beds.

Gwen Cooper was hopping mad.

"Where the hell is that little turd? Let me at him!"

"Darling," Rhys tried to console her. "Please, calm down. You're going to make yourself sick. Ah! Here's Ianto. Let's see if we can find out what's going on from him."

With exquisite gentleness Ianto Jones placed The Doctor on another crèche. He carefully arranged the Time Lord's clothes and then pressed an ear to his chest.

"Ianto!" Rhys rumbled anxiously as he stroked his wife's hair.

"Shush! I'm listening."

There was a few seconds of dead air while Ianto closed his eyes and concentrated.

"Two hearts! Beating!" The Welshman straightened back up triumphantly. "Heard them both I did!"

Gwen shooed Rhys' hand off of her head. "Get away from me!" she screeched.

Ianto scrutinized the two of them, "What seems to be the problem here?"

"That little creep John Hart!" Gwen hissed, "I want my fingers around his scrawny little neck – that's what the problem is!"

Ianto shook his head, "But… he rescued you, Gwen. Saved you from…"

"From that pathetic brother of Jack's, I know. All I can say is _some rescue_. I was doing fine until mister high and mighty Captain John bloody Hart came parading in and took over. Then look what happened. Everything went straight to hell. First _him_," she gestured despairingly at The Doctor lying motionless on his bed, "and then it was _into the TARDIS with you dearie and just keep quiet I've got a plan sweetheart and oh but I want you to put on the lovely dress and just be patient this will all work out and be over with soon and don't forget to shut the fuck up and play along_. The rat bastard! Shit!"

Gwen looked down at the ill-fitting white wedding dress she was still wearing and laughed. Ianto decided she sounded just a bit hysterical. Maybe more than just a bit…

"You're right," he said sympathetically to her. "It was a harebrained scheme. But we were worried about you, Gwen, and our top priority was getting you back home safely. The Doctor insisted we go with his plan and after all it was his ship we used; we had little choice in the matter. Here," he padded over to the sink and rummaged around, "let me get you a nice big drink of lovely cool water."

He brought her a glass and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and raised the cup to her lips and drank. That's when he used his other hand to stick her with the hypodermic. Her eyes opened wide but then closed as she shuddered and fell back against the pillows. Ianto deftly caught the half-empty cup of water before it hit the blanket.

"What the hell was that for?" Rhys growled.

Ianto raised a hand in a gesture of peace. "It's a sedative. We need to get her checked over and she is clearly overwrought. I realize Gwen may have a very good reason to be upset, but I think it is best to keep her calm and sleeping until Martha can come round and provide the care she needs and deserves. Which reminds me, I need to phone Martha. Keep an eye on them for me, will you?"

Rhys sputtered something under his breath but Ianto was already long gone.

"It wasn't a harebrained scheme, you know," The Doctor said suddenly, greatly surprising Rhys. "It was a very good plan. We got her back, didn't we? Just like I promised?"

"Yes. Yes you did, Doctor. Thank you. Erm… are you all right?"

"Fit as a fiddle, Rhys!" The Time Lord sat up but groaned and quickly lay back down again. "Well, maybe not quite so fit. My rib cage took another beating. But I'll be fine. Is Gwen okay?"

"I think so. She started spouting off as soon as I brought her here. Wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise. Mad as hell she is."

"I don't doubt it. Rhys, I think Gray might've given her a hard time. I suspect she's projecting… you know?"

Rhys shook his head and frowned, "Projecting?"

"Associating her anger with an inaccurate, inappropriate target. Falsely assigning blame. She's actually angry at Gray, but she's taking it out on John. That sort of thing."

"Ah! She does that all the time. Comes home mad as hell at me but I know she's actually pissed off at someone else. Usually all it takes is a few quiet moments and a big glass of wine."

The Doctor nodded and smiled thinly. "Good. Then you do understand it. Well… in this particular situation it might be more serious than that. Rhys… I don't know how to tell you other than to just come out and say it. Gray may have assaulted her. Gwen may be in need of a lot of help before this is all over. And she's going to need you at her side every step of the way. She's strong but no one is _that_ strong."

As the Time Lord watched, a progression of emotions passed over Rhys' face, a sort of abbreviated "Fives States of Grief." Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance – they were all there, marching relentlessly across his soul's horizon.

The Doctor could only hope that the progression would end in the proper spot. The one Gwen needed most – a place of support, love and acceptance. He could also easily guess the one question Rhys really wanted, really needed to have answered. Answered immediately. "Jack is dealing with him," the Lord of Time said softly as he held fast the Welshman's gaze. "Trust Jack to do what is right. You have other priorities – you need to take care of Gwen. Focus on her, Rhys. Direct all of your thoughts and energies to her. Let Jack take care of Gray."

After what felt like a long time Rhys finally nodded and wordlessly turned back toward his wife. He didn't even react when Jack, followed closely by Ianto, strode into the room.

_-00-_

_"True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart."  
_Honore de Balzac


	33. Chapter 33

**LOVE**

**THIRTYTHREE**

After Jack left they stood for a long time without speaking. Each lost in his or her own thoughts.

John was thinking about the first time he'd been there, inside Torchwood Three – the palace underneath the pavement. Back when he had been under the thumb, if you could call it that, of Jack's little brother. Back when his every word was monitored, his every action watched, and he could be punished, severely, for any indiscretion. Gray had sent him on a kind of reconnaissance mission… to test the waters and to stir things up. _Sewer chic_ was how John had characterized the now pleasantly familiar place when he first laid eyes on it. The former Time Agent smiled inwardly; he did on occasion have a way with words. _Guerilla poetry_ Jack had called it once.

Wil was thinking about Jack. He'd managed to surprise her mightily with his choice, his decision, and she respected and admired him for it. It had been a brave and bold thing to do. Audacious and fearless, and so perfectly Jack. She knew he'd taken a tremendous risk. What bothered her was that the risk involved more than just him. It involved his friends, his colleagues, his loved ones, maybe even innocent bystanders – perhaps entire planets if not galaxies of innocent bystanders. She sighed and looked at John; in the end she was forced to admit if the decision had been left up to her she would've chosen very, very differently.

John Hart looked back at her, steadfastly meeting her gaze. And so they remained for quite some time.

It was John who finally broke the silence. "So… did he give you the line from _Henry the Fifth_?"

"You mean…?"

He smiled roguishly, his eyes lighting up, "Witchcraft in my lips?"

She winced, "Are you going to tell me you told me so?"

After shaking his head he mouthed, silently, "I told you so..."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. He needed you. You needed him."

"Oh, John…"

"Look," he interrupted her. "I would've done the same thing, okay? Whatever it was, whatever happened, whatever was going on… the details don't matter. When it comes right down to it I would do anything for Jack, just as I know you would, too. Don't you get it? In part that's why I love you. There are a lot of reasons why I love you, why I fell in love with you the moment I first laid eyes on you. I mean you're gorgeous and funny and passionate and smart as hell and sexy beyond belief and you sing beautifully and move like a dancer and you have magic in your eyes and devilry in your touch, but you… but on top of all that you also love _him_. And for me… call me shallow, call me foolish, call me what you will, but for me sometimes that's all it takes. Because I love him so much…

"I would kill for you, Wil. I would die for you. But for him? For Jack Harkness I would walk laughing through the gates of hell, into eternal damnation, and never look back. The mere fact that you feel the same way only makes me love you more."

He opened his arms and she went to him. They held each other and slowly, gently, rocked back and forth.

"I swore it wouldn't be me," she whispered.

"I know you did, but I also knew you were misleading yourself." She tried to pull away but he held her fast in his embrace. "Don't get me wrong! I'm not saying you were lying. I think instead you just didn't realize yet what a potent concoction our dashing Captain really is. There's only one person I know of who is able to withstand the hypnotic, intoxicating spell of Jack Harkness and he's – well, he's a nine-hundred year old Time Lord!

"Luck of the draw," he continued. "It ended up being you but it could've just as easily been me. But then… like I said, you needed him. Funny how things sometimes work out, isn't it? And I'm man enough to admit the truth; Jack was able to do something for you that I couldn't. Something important. Something you needed. Not that I didn't want to. How could I hold that against you? Or him? Ah! The mystery that is Captain Jack Harkness!"

John had lowered his right arm around her waist, grasped her right hand in his left and their gentle rocking became a sort of slow, sensual waltz; an exquisite dance to music only they could hear.

"M'Lady," he murmured into her ear. "My treasured _inamorata_… if it is your wish I will step aside and allow Captain Jack Harkness to cut in. I love you with all my heart but I will not stand in your way if he is what you truly want."

She buried her face into his neck, breathed in his scent and kissed the warm, soft skin beneath his collar. "There is only one partner I truly want, dance or otherwise, and it is you Captain John Hart."

He laughed as he leaned back and spun her around. The turn took her by surprise and she fell smiling into his arms and kissed him. He kissed her back, his kisses ardent, burning. "I love you," he purred, his voice thick with arousal. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes," she replied and that was all she needed to say as they both felt the familiar tingle of their ship's transporter.

_Hodie mihi, cras tibi_, Wil thought before she gave herself over completely to desire. _I only hope when the time comes and the situation is reversed, that I can be as forgiving._

_-00-_

_"I love her and that's the beginning of everything."  
_F. Scott Fitzgerald


	34. Chapter 34

**LOVE**

**THIRTYFOUR**

When The Doctor and the Captain returned to the Hub's control center Jack couldn't help but notice that the place where he'd last seen Wil and John was now instead occupied by a big blue police box.

"My TARDIS!" the Time Lord sang out as he ran to his ship.

Jack smiled. He was happy to see once again that The Doctor was no worse for wear. A couple of cracked ribs and a few angry bruises, but his precious Time Lord had said he felt fine and was certainly moving around like he'd meant it.

Although at first glance, back in the ICU, the Captain had initially been quite concerned until The Doctor looked up from his bed and howled, "Jack! What happened to your hair?"

Even Rhys turned around and cracked a small smile before he admonished the two men to keep their voices down because Gwen was sleeping.

Jack reached up with both hands and vigorously rubbed the dark stubble that was covering his skull. "A bit too much off the top you think?" he said quietly. His eyes were sparkling.

The Doctor shook his head and grinned. "Jack Harkness, skinhead. I never thought I'd live to see the day."

Ianto leaned in close to the Captain and whispered something into his ear. Jack nodded, whispered something back, and gave his erstwhile colleague a lusty kiss on the lips. Then the young Welshman quietly disappeared.

The Doctor looked at Jack curiously.

"Oh," the Captain said in response to his friend's inquisitive expression. "Ianto has gone to fetch Martha in the SUV. She's going to want to take a close look at Gwen, to be sure. And perhaps have a look at you, too, while she's at it, if you don't mind? A quick check-up and an oil change maybe, Doctor?"

"Me? Mind? Of course I'd mind! I don't need anyone, including Ms. Doctor Martha Jones, to tell me I'm just fine." He sat up on the edge of the bed and peered intently at Jack's head. "But you may be a horse of an entirely different color. How are you doing, Captain Jack Harkness? How's that old noggin of yours? Everything nice and battened down in there or do you still have a couple of stray pieces rolling around unfettered inside your handsome skull?"

Jack frowned. "I'm good, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You see, I know what you did with your brother. Makes me think you might have a few screws loose. I mean, letting him go? That doesn't sound like the Jack Harkness I know and love."

"Scoot over," the Captain said before sitting down next to the Time Lord. "I know it doesn't sound like me and I was all set to render him _metabolically incompetent_," Jack flashed a weary half-smile at his own joke. "Really, I was ready to kill him. But when it came right down to it, I didn't want to. It didn't feel right. I've locked him up three times when what I really wanted to do was to save him. But I realize now I can't save him. Only he can save himself. I've done everything I could for him except to let him go."

The Time Lord nodded slowly; he was listening to Jack but he was actually watching Rhys. He watched the Welshman's back muscles tense as he eavesdropped on the muted conversation about Gray. But The Doctor felt he'd done all he could for Rhys Williams, although he knew full well the young couple likely had hard times ahead. Letting go of that particular problem, he turned his eyes and his full attention to Jack Harkness. The Doctor reached out for the Captain's hand and wrapped his long fingers around it, "You did the right thing, Jack."

The Captain scowled. "Maybe the right thing… but the smart thing? I don't know."

"No one can know, Jack. You can only try and do your best. Your choices were limited and I have a hard time imagining you murdering your brother."

"You're right, I can't kill Gray. I'd never forgive myself if I did. I know that now. I'm not even sure I would be able to _live_ with myself." Jack shook his head wearily. "I would've had to have John do it, I almost did. But then…"

"But then what?"

"But then I'd never be able to forgive_ him_. And you know what?"

"What?"

"He knew that and _still_ he was ready to do it for me. John knew I would never have been able to look at his face again, and yet nevertheless he offered to take that bitter cup from my hand. He was going to do it even though he knew without a doubt I'd despise him for all of eternity."

The Doctor waited a long time before responding, "He loves you Jack."

"Yeah, I know."

"You're lucky to have so many people who love you."

"Am I? Am I really?"

The Doctor smiled and nodded, "Yes Jack. You really, truly are one lucky human being." Then he unwrapped his fingers, reached up and rubbed Jack's skull. "I just had to do that. For good luck, you know?"

Jack snorted. "Any time, Doctor. Any time. Let's go find John and Wil, hmm?"

But John and Wil were nowhere to be found. Instead there was the big blue police box waiting for the Captain and The Doctor. No doubt a parting gift from Grasshopper.

The Lord of Time stood in the doorway of his TARDIS and blinked at Jack before disappearing within. "Come on!" he yelled over his shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

Jack Harkness grinned, and then laughed out loud as he followed The Doctor inside and shut the door.

_-00-_

_"Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."  
_Antoine de Saint-Exupery


	35. Epilogue

**LOVE**

**EPILOGUE **

Wil was awake – watching John sleep.

_Grasshopper?_

_Yes, Teacher?_

_Time to tell me what happened to Iserliss._

_Are you certain, Teacher?_

_Yes. What did you do to him?_

_I actually did very little to him, Teacher. I simply gave him to the crowd._

_The crowd?_

_The crowd of people outside of his clinic. He was attempting to enter the building stealthily through a different, hidden door but I… well, I let the crowd find him._

_Ah._

_They were not very happy with him. Especially the large portion of the crowd – the vast majority, really – who'd lost their loved ones to him._

_I see._

_Yes, Teacher. Group dynamics are extremely interesting, and more than just a little impressive to observe in action._

_Is that so?_

_Indeed, Teacher. I witnessed that ordinary, even helpless individuals can gain direct power by acting collectively. A large group of people such as that can bring about dramatic and sudden change._

_Ah-ha! A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals._

_You are very wise, Teacher._

_Not me – Tommy Lee Jones in a film called 'Men in Black.'_

_A very wise movie, then, Teacher._

_True enough. So… group dynamics?_

_Yes, Teacher. No one will have to worry about that despicable man ever again._

_Thank you, Grasshopper. I hope you didn't mind?_

_Never, Teacher. I will always strive to protect you and those whom you love. Even John Hart._

_Was that a joke, Grasshopper?_

_Yes, I am afraid so._

_It was reasonably funny._

_Thank you, I'm trying._

_I know you are, and that's what counts. Grasshopper?_

_Yes, Teacher?_

_Do you remember our conversation?_

_We've had many conversations…_

_The one about being tested?_

_Yes, Teacher, I do remember it._

_I think I might have a possible answer to your question._

_About worthiness?_

_Yes, Grasshopper._

_What is the answer, Teacher?_

_Well I'm not certain, but I think we are tested to prove our worthiness to be loved._

_Ah._

_Ah, indeed._

_And do you believe you are worthy, Teacher?_

She looked at John, his face so precious to her, so beloved.

_I don't know. I hope so. What do you think?_

_Knowing the considerable number of people who love you and how true, clear and deep that love runs, I have to say I believe you are very worthy indeed, Teacher._

_And you are very kind, Grasshopper._

_Even though I realize I am not a real person, Teacher, I would like to include myself in that considerable number, if you do not object?_

Wil smiled.

_You are as much of a real person to me as anyone I know. I do not object and I love you too, my wonderful student._

John opened his eyes. "What are you staring at?"

"I'm watching you sleep," she smiled serenely. "I love watching you sleep; you're beautiful when you sleep."

He reached out, pulled her into him, and kissed her.

**FINIS**

--

_"I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you."  
_Roy Croft

**Afterword**

I hope you enjoyed this story. Thanks for all the reviews, I do love them! The sequel to 'Love' and the thirteenth story in this series is called 'Scars.'

--

_Tell me who admires and loves you,  
And I will tell you who you are.  
_– Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve


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